Photograph
Disclaimer: I own no one!
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"Mick, you're extremely pregnant. Why the hell are you climbing the attic ladder?" Trish Stratagias asked, peeking her head into the attic. She stifled a cough, watching her pregnant wife go through photo albums.
"Can't I go through photo albums?" Mickie asked, sipping a bottle of water. "I want to know our pictures are properly labeled when the baby comes,"
Trish nodded, pulling herself into the attic. When was the last time they had been up here? Had it really been so long ago that she couldn't remember?
"Remember this?" Mickie murmured, shoving a picture at Trish. "Wasn't it Jeff who took it?" Trish glanced down. Was this their bridal shower?
"I think so," she murmured, gazing at the picture. "Wow, this has Stephanie in it. I forgot she was there," Taking a deep breath, she sighed. Stephanie Irvine had died of a rare complication in childbirth, not long after the picture was taken. "How could she have died two weeks later?"
Mickie shrugged, rubbing her belly.
"Stephanie Spencer, or Stellan Michael, we're waiting," Mickie murmured, rubbing her belly. "If you're a girl, you're being named for a special woman," She sighed, continuing to go through pictures. "Look at this. Did you think Jeff would ever get married?" She handed Trish a picture.
Trish could see Jeff Hardy, her best friend standing in front of an alter. She was beside him, his best woman. She could tell he had just glimpsed his bride for the first time.
"I never thought he would get married, and I certainly didn't think it would be Amy," Mickie murmured. Trish glanced over to her. Why had she gotten quiet all of a sudden?
"What is it?" Trish asked. Tears slipping down her face, Mickie silently handed her the picture. "Stella…"
Her goddaughter, Jeff and Amy's daughter…
Why did they have the picture? Trish couldn't remember taking one.
"I can't believe she's been gone two years," Mickie murmured, tightly clutching her belly with both hands. "SIDS is a horrible thing," Trish could tell Mickie was thinking about their own baby.
"She's been gone two years, and Rowan's been here a year," Trish murmured, pointing to the next picture in the album. "So much happens…" Mickie began to laugh. "What?" Tenderly, she grasped Mickie's hand.
"I'm looking at your face covered in chocolate cake," she murmured. "From our wedding," Trish rolled her eyes.
"I thought I told you to burn that," Trish murmured. Mickie nodded. "I'll burn this one when you burn the one of me with my head in the toilet," Mickie murmured. "I was six weeks pregnant. I think I'm allowed to have my head in the toilet," Trish nodded.
"You are!" she exclaimed. "Look at this," She handed Mickie a picture. "I don't think your dress was finished yet," Mickie gazed at the picture.
She was looking at herself two years younger and thirty pounds lighter. She was staring at herself in a three-way mirror, wearing only an unfinished pink gauzy dress.
"My dress fitting with what's his name. Oh, what the fuck was his name? Albert!" Mickie exclaimed, coming up with the name for her tailor. "He was a good photographer. We should have used him instead of the one who got drunk," She dropped a handful of bad, unfocused shots on the floor.
"You were ready to kill him! You gave the camera to Amy, who turned out to be a pretty good photographer for someone who had no clue what she was doing," Trish said, handing Mickie the pictures.
"The money shot,"
Mickie traced the image of their hands intertwined. She didn't know how Amy had gotten that picture, but it was easily the best shot of the ceremony. The inscription on their rings was even readable.
"Oh lord." Mickie murmured, smirking. Trish glanced up. "We must have stuck it up here when we moved," She opened a book and began to read. "Hello, Baby. Mommy and I just found out you existed. We can't wait to meet you and start our life together. Love, Mama." She glanced up at Trish.
"Our baby book," Trish murmured. Mickie nodded. "I remember starting it for him or her. I thought we lost it," Noticing the Quizzical look on Mickie's face, she glanced up. "What?"
"My pregnancy test," she said. "The actual test and a picture of the positive test. Why did we keep the test?"
"You said you wanted to remember how happy you were," Trish murmured, nuzzling Mickie's neck. "Well, we can fill a special little one's book with our pictures,"
"Yeah, but no drunk photographers unless it's one of us." Mickie murmured, placing Trish's hand on her belly. "Feel it?" Trish nodded. "There's one more picture surprise I found," She handed Trish a set of frames.
The black and white images showed Mickie and Trish, when Mickie was in her twenty-eighth week. Her belly was exposed, and Trish had her hands nestled in Mickie's on her belly.
"Our first family portrait," Mickie murmured. "We can do this,"
Trish gently ran her hand over her wife's belly. "Yes, we can,"
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