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elysianrey · 2 years ago

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to build a home

(a/n: Belly and Conrad journey through trying to start a family of their own. Belly’s dreams don’t go quite as planned.

or basically my excuse to write a fic where these two would give each other the world if they could and Jeremiah gets the wedding he always wanted.)

pairing: belly conklin/conrad fisher

tw: fertility issues, hurt/comfort, panic attack

wc: 4,393

Belly knew from the day she chose Conrad Fisher as her future husband-to-be that she wanted to have a family with him someday. They didn’t have to have many kids—the Fishers and the Conklins got by just fine with only two kids on each side—but she always dreamt of creating at least one new life with the man who could move the moon and stars. Family was important to both of them. Family was everything.

It wasn’t long after they exchanged their vows that they agreed to start trying to make a little family of their own. Belly had been on birth control for the past 5 years so she understood it would take time for her body to acclimate and regulate itself. Between 3 months to possibly a year her gynecologist had assured her. Waiting was okay. She had learned a lot about waiting since her years of pining after Conrad. It would only make the inevitability of their little one that much sweeter.

The waiting began.

3 months.

Her period resumed.

6 months.

It finally became consistent enough to track

9 months.

A box of pregnancy tests that she purchased from the Dollar Tree resided carefully in her underwear drawer.

One year.

Nothing.

Despite no signs that she was pregnant, Belly remained optimistic. Hopeful. She repeated her doctor’s words like a mantra when thoughts of fear and doubt began to creep into her mind. Conrad faithfully repeated the same things, never failing to remind her that they always had next month. Next month would be the month. He could feel it. They just needed to wait a little bit longer. Belly’s heart swelled in her chest every time she heard her husband’s reassurance. She still could not believe he was hers and she was his. That she got to wake up to the boy she fell in love with as an awkward preteen every single day.

Something was wrong.

It has been two years now since she stopped her birth control. In that time, she’s spent a handful of days sitting in the doctor’s office, waiting for an answer. She’s convinced herself that something must not be functioning properly within her female parts, otherwise they would already be pregnant by now. The doctor explains that nothing is out of the ordinary regarding her reproductive health. Then she suggests the last words Belly ever wanted to hear. Have you considered visiting a fertility clinic with your husband?

Could their inability to conceive truly be a problem on Conrad’s end? When she conveys the doctor’s advice to him later that evening, he immediately agrees to the plan of consulting with another medical expert. Her heart aches with adoration for his willingness to give this unexpected route a try. She knows he gets how much this means to her as he reaches across their dinner table and takes her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He flashes his all-too-familiar, lopsided grin and gives her hand a soft squeeze.

The office is pleasant and the staff are friendly enough when they visit a month later. The secretary gives them a mountain of paperwork to complete before meeting with the doctor. Despite the pleasantries, Belly can’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. A nurse escorts them to a plain room with a couple of seats that have a whole filing rack of pregnancy and fertility brochures. Her knee begins to shake up and down, to which Conrad gently calms with his broad hand. She does her best to match his collected demeanor.

The doctor invites them into his formal office and initiates the conversation with her another series of questions, some more uncomfortable than others. At this point, these people knew more about their sex life than her best friend, Taylor, much to Belly’s embarrassment. Her face burns as Conrad answers each question, no hint of shame or awkwardness in his tone. By the end of their appointment, her husband has provided enough of a sample for the lab to create a report on the numbers and viability of his sperm. Belly cannot remember a time she has been more mortified about a situation, and she isn’t even the one who had to cum into a test tube.

They receive his results in one week.

Normal.

Three years have passed.

The crack in her heart has grown and deepened with the pain of being unable to start a family. Her mother recognizes the hurt she feels each time they get together for a movie night or lunch, and she knows Laurel wishes she could do something to ease the burden. On a particularly warm day in mid-April, her mom tentatively brings up options she still has. Adoption. Fostering. IVF. Surrogacy. With each option mentioned, Belly’s shoulders deflate more and more. By the end of their conversation, she thanks her mom for her help, and immediately drives to Conrad’s office, ignoring the fact that her lunch break is long over.

She disregards the looks of curiosity his coworkers give as she walks past them, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Her front teeth bite down hard enough on her lower lip to hurt, yet it’s incomparable to the ache in her chest. Belly manages to hold herself together long enough to knock on his door, wait for him to appear with a concerned expression forming along his brow, and enter his office. The moment she hears the door latch, a strangled sob bubbles out of her throat and she grips onto the corner of his desk to keep herself from sinking to the ground.

“We’re destined to never have children, aren’t we?” she chokes out, her knuckles turning white from her grip on his desk. “What are we doing wrong, Connie? What am I doing wrong?”

She feels his arms find their solace around her waist, pulling her back to his chest in a comforting embrace. This is the first time she’s let the armor she keeps up about their fertility issues fall so openly and plainly in front of him. Belly can’t breathe. She can’t think. She must have done something wrong to prevent them from having a baby. The distant ringing in her ears blocks the sound of her sobs. The sound of Conrad.

Conrad.

Conrad’s talking. Conrad’s trying to talk to her. His voice slowly returns and she tries focusing on what he’s saying.

“Breathe Belly. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just focus on my breathing.” His words are far away, but she finds herself mirroring the rise and fall of his chest, his words growing louder with each round of breathing.

In one, two, three, four, five.

Hold.

Out one, two, three, four, five.

After about 5 sets of this, Belly’s muscles begin to relax, her sobs lessen to small whimpers. Tears, snot, and saliva mix together on her face as she drops her head back against Conrad’s shoulder. He pushes her bangs back from her forehead, his lips meeting the smooth skin. He’s still holding onto her like she might collapse at any moment, and if she’s being honest, there’s a good possibility that she will if he decides to let go.

“Tell me what happened,” his voice is gentle and low, ready to catch her again if she falls.

She does. Belly tells him everything she should have told him from the moment she felt her heart break. She tells him she didn’t want to worry him because of what happened years ago with his mom’s sickness. She tells him that he deserves more than this life they’re currently living. She tells him about her conversation with her mom. By the end of her confession, they’re sitting together on the hardwood floor, leaning against the cream wall of his office.

Her eyes meet the framed picture of them dancing together on their wedding day, hanging on the wall opposite them. Hurt forms a lump in her throat, taunting her of what life was like before this mess.

She hears him clear his throat and braces herself for the worst. “Bells, look at me,” he says in the same quiet voice as earlier.

Hesitantly, she turns her head toward him, dark eyes meeting his steady blue ones. Her heart pounds, fully expecting to hear his disappointment. Instead, he takes her chin in his fingers and runs his soft thumb along her jawline.

“You have done nothing wrong. Belly, nothing you could ever do would make me love you less. We made a vow to each other. For better, for worse, in sickness, and in health,” he quotes fondly. “This is one of those times where—where we have to lean on each other in ways we’ve never had to before. I want you to know that I’ve never thought of you differently since we began this journey together. And regardless of what life has in store for us, you’ll always be my Belly.”

A fresh wave of tears form in her eyes, this time from words of promise and commitment. Suddenly, she realizes everything is going to be okay. She doesn’t have to bear the burden for both of them. Conrad wants her to trust him with the share she was trying to carry alone. He’s not going to leave her like he did when his mom was dying. They’ve already been through hell and back so why was she so worried this time would be different?

“I love you, Conrad Fisher.” She means it with every inch of her being.

“And I love you, Isabel Fisher.”

Belly sits in one of the large white rocking chairs on the porch of an Airbnb she’s sharing with Taylor and her husband in Cousins. Her best friend rocks back and forth, holding her extremely pregnant belly, and laughing as Conrad chases after Max, her toddler son. The little boy squeals happily as Conrad picks him up and spins him around. He sets him back on the grass and the game begins again in the pristine yard.

“Here we go ladies,” Taylor’s husband, Sergio, interrupts, holding far too many glasses of lemonade in his hands. Belly thanks him, taking a sip immediately to relieve the tightness in her throat. Despite the years she’s spent accepting their reality, and being truly happy for her friend, seeing Conrad so enthralled with Max still stings sometimes.

“So are we making bets on tomorrow or what?” Taylor jabs, breaking Belly out of her reverie.

Oh right. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow when she has to acknowledge Jeremiah again after years apart. For his wedding day of all things. Much to their surprise, Jeremiah asked Conrad to be in the wedding party months ago. The brothers had slowly started talking to each other again after the fiasco with her and Jeremiah’s wedding. The whole situation from that day seriously wrecked their relationship; however, Conrad insisted his younger brother would come around someday. Belly felt indifferent toward Jeremiah. At least he had finally found happiness with someone who would wholeheartedly return his affection.

“I bet $10 he cries at the altar,” Taylor declares with a smile.

Conrad comes running up to the porch with Max dangling on his back. “I bet $5 your water breaks,” he says with a chuckle.

Taylor responds to his remark with a childish poke of her tongue.

“What about you Belly?” Sergio asks, most likely wanting to hear a snide comment based on her and Jeremiah’s history. Conrad and Taylor look at her expectedly.

All of a sudden, she feels like she’s going to vomit. Her hand flies over her mouth as she jolts up and starts toward the door.

“Belly?” Taylor calls after her as Conrad sets Max down.

She ignores the long strides behind her, seeking only the refuge of the half bathroom next to the kitchen. Throwing the toilet seat up, the lemonade mixed with the muffin she ate for breakfast rises from her throat. She gags as more bile empties from her stomach. Belly feels a hand wrap around her long hair to keep it from falling into the mess. The other hand rubs circles on her back.

“Bells, is everything okay?” Conrad asks worriedly, his fingers relieving the tension in her shoulders.

She nods in reply, closing the toilet seat and pushing down on the handle. “Yeah, everything is good. Must have been something I ate that didn’t sit right.”

Belly stands up, causing Conrad to follow suit, and she looks at him in the reflection of the mirror while she rinses out her mouth and washes her hands. When she’s done, she can tell he’s not quite convinced, but she gives him her cheeriest Belly smile then pecks him on the cheek. “Promise.”

That evening, Conrad goes to the rehearsal dinner alone, leaving Belly to hang out with Taylor’s family. She tells him she isn’t feeling well, partly out of truth and partly because she isn’t ready to see Jeremiah again until she absolutely has no other choice.

Sergio brings soup up to Belly’s room after Taylor insists, and she does her best to eat it. Unfortunately, her stomach has other plans and it ends up where her breakfast did.

It’s around 9 o’clock when Taylor barges into her room and plops down on her bed, which brings back memories of when they were teenagers in Cousins, obsessing over boys and parties.

“How are you feeling?” She tucks a lock of Belly’s dark hair behind her ear in a motherly way.

“Great,” Belly sarcastically responds, pointing to the half eaten dinner on the bed stand.

Taylor nods with a roll of her eyes then something between them shifts. She glances down to her swollen stomach and bites down on her lip. Belly can already tell where this is going.

“Tay—no—,” the girl cuts her off before she can get a word in.

“Come on, Belly. Tell me you really haven’t even considered it,” she protests.

She sighs, looking pointedly at her friend who's been with her through every high and low. She knows she can tell her anything in the world. “Listen—even if I say I have, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s been 5 years of absolutely nothing. Why would that change all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know, Bells. I’m not a medical professional by any means, but it’s not like it’s impossible.” Belly can tell Taylor is wanting to be optimistic. She wishes with everything inside of her that she could be too. “All I’m saying is take a test. At least you’ll know for sure.”

She contemplates her friend’s words. Belly is 95% sure she has a stomach bug. That leaves 5% for the possibility she truly is pregnant. 5% is far too high of a hope that will inevitably be crushed again.

“Fine. Where am I supposed to get a test then?” She doubts she can run to the store before Conrad gets back to the Airbnb.

“I’m glad you asked,” Taylor replies cheekily, pulling a box out of her oversized skirt. Belly stares in disbelief. “What? It never hurts to keep some in your toiletries just in case of an emergency situation.”

Shaking her head, Belly takes the test from her and sets it on the stand beside the bed. “Later,” she says in reply to Taylor’s pout.

Instead of taking it, Belly shoves it inside the drawer and turns out the light. She doesn’t want to deal with this on the eve of her ex fiancé’s wedding. Squeezing her eyes closed, her mind drifts off to sleep before Conrad returns home.

She doesn’t know why she decides to throw the test into her purse before they leave. It’s not as if she would be using it at the wedding of all places. Belly pushes this out of her train of thoughts and heads down to the car where Sergio, Taylor, and Max are waiting. She lifts the pale sage dress to keep it from catching and yanks the door shut. Max babbles happily as Sergio takes off toward the country club.

Her stomach twists with nerves. She considers calling her husband while her fingers click on their most recent string of messages, however, she decides against it after looking at the time. They’re probably finishing up wedding portraits according to the schedule Conrad sent early this morning.

The garden for the ceremony is decorated in creamy white roses, hydrangeas, and lilies from the aisle to the large wooden arch. It’s breathtakingly beautiful, and it smells—-horrendous. Belly suddenly comes to the realization after taking her seat. Beads of sweat pebble across her forehead and she attempts to breathe solely through her mouth. She can do this. She can be supportive of Conrad while he stands next to his brother.

The ceremony promptly begins at 2:00 and she watches as the wedding party files down the aisle first. Her heart skips a beat when Conrad sends her a subtle wink. Then the processional music starts and the guests rise. Jeremiah walks down the aisle, arm in arm with his dad, a carefree smile on his face. Belly’s worries fade into nothingness as she realizes there was never any reason for the anxiety in her chest. Today wasn’t about her. It wasn’t even about them. It was about Jeremiah and—-

Cam Cameron? God—how oblivious had Belly been in the past six months? How had she missed the fact that Jeremiah was getting married to Cam?

Cam walks arm in arm with his mom and dad. The look on Jeremiah’s face as he watches his husband-to-be says everything Belly had ever hoped for his future love. She may have not been around for their relationship, yet she can sense they were absolutely made for each other.

The minister directs the guests to be seated and Belly attempts to put on a content and relaxed face. Inwardly, her body screams in protest of the awful flowers tucked in every crack of the garden.

Maybe the reception would be better.

The banquet hall where she danced with Conrad in her magical debutante gown has been transformed into an indoor replica of the garden. Flowers hang from the ceiling and sprout out of massive center pieces on each table. The smell is actually worse than it had been outside. Belly finds her place card next to Conrad’s at a circular table. Only the grooms have a small, two person table specifically for them on the stage where she and Jeremiah had once stood.

Belly is relieved to have Conrad by her side when the wedding party enters. Staff in formal wear serve them their dinner choice on fine china. She can tell no corners were cut in order to make this wedding one of a kind. Glancing down at her food, she comes face to face with a whole lobster. Typically, seafood was one of her favorite meals. It reminded her of the meals they ate as a family in Cousins every summer. Tonight, the sight of seafood makes her physically ill. Holding back a gag, Belly grabs her purse and excuses herself to the bathroom. She misses Conrad’s expression after he pauses in mid-conversation with one of his cousins. All that matters is making it to a toilet before she ruins Jeremiah’s big day. Again.

Lucky for her, the ladies room contains fancy, private, floor to ceiling stalls. Plus not a soul is in sight. She throws open the largest stall and vomits whatever is in her stomach. She hasn’t had much of an appetite so stomach acid burns her throat. Belly gets off the floor and closes the stall door. Her hands shake as she flushes the toilet. Then she reaches for the box inside her purse. After memorizing the directions by heart early on when she bought a handful, she tears open the packaging and takes out the stick. Not bothering to give a single second more to her doubt, she pees on the stick. She hurriedly puts the stick back in the box.

Then she sets a timer on her phone. And she waits

1 minute.

2 minutes.

3 minutes.

Her timer goes off and her hands are trembling as she picks the box off the ground. Slowly, she pulls the test out, squeezing her eyes closed to hold back the tears of disappointment.

She turns the test over, heart beating wildly in her chest, and cracks an eye open. Two blue lines form in the shape of a plus sign.

Positive.

The test reads positive.

Belly lets out a strangled laugh as tears begin to fall down her cheeks. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. It couldn’t really be, could it? When was her last period? She hadn’t been keeping track anymore out of belief that pregnancy was no longer in the cards for them. A month ago? Two months ago?

A baby. There is a baby inside of her. Belly decides to double check that the test is not faulty by using the second stick in the pack. She takes out a water bottle and chugs it quickly. Then she waits.

A plus sign.

Positive again.

A warm feeling of joy creeps into the heart she was confident could no longer experience such emotion. She is fully sobbing and laughing simultaneously when the door to the bathroom opens. Her hand flies over her mouth to muffle the noise.

“Bells, are you in there?” she hears Conrad ask cautiously.

Conrad. She’s nearly forgotten where she is and how she was supposed to be eating dinner. Was this the right time and place to share news like this? Belly had always figured she would put together something Pinterest-worthy to surprise her husband. Now she’s sitting on a toilet with two pregnancy tests in her hand, her underwear around her ankles, and the leftover taste of vomit coating her tongue.

Now was as good of a time as ever.

“Yeah, I’m in the last stall.” The lock on the door is open. She doesn’t hear him move. “I don’t think anyone’s in here.” His dress shoes rapt the tile of the bathroom floor, stopping directly in front of her stall. He turns the handle slowly and gives the door a push, peering into the space.

“I was worried when you hadn’t come back. I know you’ve been feeling a lit—-,” his words freeze and she watches as his observant eyes take in the scene before him. The tears on her cheeks. The empty pregnancy test box. The sticks in her hands. “Oh shit Bells—I’m so—.”

Belly can’t help it when she cuts him off with a laugh. Were the pregnancy hormones taking hold already? He gives her a look like she’s starting to worry him.

“Connie, I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant.” She holds out the sticks for him to see.

He slowly makes his way into the stall, closing the door behind him and takes the tests from her hands. Then he sinks down to his knees in front of her, pressed tux and all. He continues staring at the tests like they may burst up in flames at any moment. Like they will suddenly read negative. When his blue gaze meets hers, his lower lip is trembling and his eyes glisten with sparkling tears. His hand reaches out to curl behind her neck and he pulls her forward into a kiss filled with unspoken words of awe and delight.

He pulls back to rest his forehead against hers, a warm wetness dripping down his cheeks, and a low chuckle emits from his throat as he says, “We’re going to be parents, Belly.” Like he can’t quite believe his own words.

They are going to be parents.

By 4 months, Belly is craving Jimmy John’s subs and cotton candy ice cream. The days of morning sickness have met their demise.

The pregnancy is nearly half way over and the fear of losing what she so desperately desired is starting to fade.

At 6 months, her feet are swelling and her back is aching. She doesn’t complain though. Not once. Conrad knows her well enough and it annoys her that he notices her red feet and grimaces each time she bends down to pick something up. He spends each night rubbing her feet and massaging her back.

When she reaches 8 months, her mother bestows her an empty journal at her baby shower and Belly spends each night writing to the little life inside of her. She tells them about her summers in Cousins, her memories with their daddy, the funny pranks uncle Jeremiah and Steven pulled on grandma Laurel. She writes about grandma Susannah and the undeniable love she had for her family and her zeal for life.

She wishes more than anything that their miracle could have met Susannah. Belly has a sense they already have though.

On January 23rd at 6:51 a.m., a red-faced, screaming little girl with a tuft of dark brown hair is born into the world.

The nurses lay the baby on Belly’s chest as a tear-streaked Conrad peppers kisses on his wife’s face, taking in the sight of their precious baby girl. His hand reaches out to stroke his daughter’s chubby cheek, whispering, “I’m so proud of you. You are remarkable. She is absolutely perfect,” into Belly’s ear.

Hours later, the rest of the family is invited in to meet the newest addition. Laurel, Steven, Shayla, Adam, Jeremiah, Cam, John. They say she’s the most beautiful baby they’ve ever seen. Steven promises to make sure she gets in lots of trouble, which earns a glare from Shayla. Jeremiah and Cam gift the baby a whale squishmallow. Laurel and Adam can’t stop taking pictures.

Belly doesn’t think she’s ever loved anyone as much as the little girl in Conrad’s arms. The baby stares back up at her dad like he set the moon and the stars in motion and maybe she’s right.

She looks down at the blanket they ordered in secret before the baby was born. Her name is printed in an elegant script surrounded by pink peonies, a favorite of her grandmother. Belly traces the name with her fingers.

Susannah Taylor Fisher.

Her family is complete.