The doctors don't know what's wrong. Their specialist doesn't know what's wrong. They're both perfectly healthy with no clear medical issues stopping them, but nothing's happened.
They're burning through medical bills and they both know they don't have many more chances to do this before they have to stop and wait until they can afford to try again.
And it's not even like it's one of them; it's both of them. Neither of them have fallen yet and it's getting frustrating. They've tried everything but it's just not working.
/
That's until it does.
They do the test together, look at it together, cry together and then press their hands against Brittany's stomach like they can't believe what's in there.
/
They tell everyone.
It's too soon, but they don't care. They both admitted, when they decided to try, that this is all they've wanted since they were barely teenagers: to be married to each other and have a family.
It's only natural to want to brag that they've got it.
/
Except they get ahead of themselves.
/
It sticks for eight weeks.
Santana comes home from work to the muffled sounds of crying in the bathroom. She knows what's wrong before she's even thought about it and steels herself before she pushes open the bathroom door as slowly and gently as she can.
Brittany looks up at her, hands covered in blood, face shocked with anguish. Santana's never seen those blue eyes look so sad and she's kneeling on the floor in front of her in a second, arms wrapping around to hold her together.
Brittany's fists clutch at her shirt and Santana doesn't give a crap about the fact that she'll never get blood stains out of her shirt. She's too busy reaching into the pocket of her skirt to grab her cellphone so she call an ambulance.
All the while, Brittany sobs "I don't know what I did wrong, I'm sorry" over and over again in her neck.
/
Brittany's reluctant to try again.
The doctor sends her to a therapist.
It takes her a long time to accept that it wasn't her fault and that Santana doesn't blame her.
She doesn't – she never could – she's just happy that her wife's alive.
/
When she finally comes around again, she demands that Santana skip her turn to try and carry and let her try again.
Santana's reluctant, but she's there to let Brittany clutch her hand when they're at the doctors making it happen.
She holds her hand, she holds her hand as much as she can until the pregnancy test comes up negative.
Brittany doesn't get out of bed for four days and Santana tells her that they're not trying again.
Brittany doesn't argue.
/
There's pregnant couples and babies everywhere after that.
Brittany stares every time they see anything remotely fertile. They walk past the pet store one day to see that there's brand new baby kittens in the window
"Do you want one?" Santana asks. She's not entirely sure that they're allowed pets in the apartment but, hell, she'll buy Brittany one if it'll make her smile again.
She just... doesn't feel like Brittany anymore.
That's only proved when she shakes her head and moves on to the next store.
/
Brittany doesn't ask her to reconsider, but Santana can see by the way her eyes get darker and emptier with the weight of what they now know – of what they know they can't have – how much Brittany's realized she really wants this.
It takes her a couple of weeks, and a Christmas that doesn't feel like anything but another day, for Santana to realize what she's going to do.
She calls her dad.
Then she calls Quinn.
They tell her she shouldn't.
She tells them she doesn't care what she shouldn't do, she knows what she can't do and that's break her wife anymore.
They stop arguing after that.
/
Her dad gives her enough money for five more chances.
She takes Quinn with her while Brittany's at work and prays for a miracle.
She goes to church for the first time since she was a teenager and kneels before this thing she's always been so desperate to believe in and begs them for a chance. She knows she doesn't always deserve it but Brittany does and she just needs this for her wife.
/
She doesn't need five chances.
She's at work when someone walks in with a cup of coffee and she suddenly feels so nauseous she nearly falls over.
She stumbles to the bathroom and hurls up her breakfast before collapsing to sit on the gross bathroom floor a few moments later in shock.
/
"What did Britt say?"
Santana shakes her head. "She's not..." she starts but she doesn't know how to finish. Quinn looks at her for a moment before concern and understanding grows on her face.
"If you are, are you going to tell her?"
Santana shakes her head. "Not... not until... not until I'm..."
The unexpected threat of tears is something that she would add to the list of symptoms she's been experiencing the past couple of days if it weren't for the fact that she's been needing to cry for months. Quinn just nods wordlessly and wraps her arms around her. Santana sobs like a kid on her shoulder for ages until she pulls back and Quinn smiles.
/
The little blue plus sign makes her stomach drop. Quinn hugs her and tells her everything's going to be okay.
It should be a happy moment, it should make her feel ecstatic, but all she feels is worry that makes her feel like she's going to be sick again.
/
Brittany still wanders around and barely smiles when she sees her.
Santana comes home from the doctor (who she's forced not to tell Brittany or anyone under the pain of her suing his ass into the next millennium until she has) and lays beside her as they fall asleep, desperate to just tell her.
But Brittany lays so far away and Santana doesn't want her to go any further, so she closes her mouth and tries to fall asleep.
/
"So, your twelve week check up? That's when you're telling her?"
"That's when they say it's safe," Santana says as she eats enough for two people.
Quinn watches her in horror at the amounts of food she puts down. "When's the twelve week check up? I'm just saying... if you're going to keep eating this much for lunch she'll figure it out when you've doubled in size by then."
Santana rolls her eyes. "A couple of days after her birthday," she says.
Quinn smirks. "Best late birthday present ever."
Santana nods. She hopes so.
/
Brittany's laying on the couch when she gets home one day. Santana's back is killing her, her feet are swollen, she spent an entire hour this morning puking, and she just crawls over Brittany until she can curl herself around her.
Her arms curl around Brittany's waist and she tries not to press her stomach into Brittany's back. Quinn might have been right about putting on weight. She's been bulging in her skirt for a week or so now.
"You okay?" Santana asks when Brittany pulls her arms tighter around her. She kisses the side of her head.
Brittany sinks into her and shakes her head.
"I don't think I want a baby anymore," she whispers and Santana's heart sinks.
/
"She said what?"
"I know," Santana shakes her head. "It'll be fine. I'll figure it out."
Quinn scoffs. "You're ten weeks pregnant, Santana, and your wife just told you she doesn't want a baby. What the hell are you going to figure out? You have to tell her."
"No, I don't."
"Santana!" she says but Santana doesn't listen.
/
She goes home and sits at the kitchen table as Brittany prepares dinner. She looks at the cup of not-decaf coffee Brittany pours her and tries not to want to drink it or vomit at the smell of it. Fucking cravings.
"Britt..." she starts. Brittany makes a noise for her to continue. "You really don't want a baby anymore?"
Brittany pauses in a way that makes Santana think that Brittany isn't really sure about anything at all. She stiffens at the word baby and Santana instinctively presses a hand to her stomach beneath the table.
Brittany shakes her head in response and Santana doesn't know what to do.
/
Maybe she forgets to eat or drink or... She kinda hasn't been sleeping well trying to plan a birthday party for Brittany and because, well, she still doesn't know what to do or how to tell Brittany that she's pregnant.
But she's giving a presentation one minute and she's in a heap on the floor the next. She still hasn't told anyone she's pregnant but they call an ambulance no matter how many times she asks them not to.
/
"You should be eating," the doctor says in the Emergency room. She's an emergency neo-natal consult or something, but she's handing Santana a candy bar as she says it, a kind smile on her face. "You're not just feeding yourself anymore."
"I know," she nods. "I'm just... stressed is all."
"Do you have anyone to call to come get you? Husband? Boyfriend?"
"Wife," Santana corrects automatically but then she stops. "She doesn't know I'm pregnant, though." The doctor looks at her like she's just accidentally walked onto the stage at a Jerry Springer recording. "It's not like that," Santana says. "We were trying but nothing was working, then she miscarried and she's not been right since... I wanted to make sure that it stuck before I told her. My twelve week sonogram is next week and I was going to do it then."
The doctor nods. "Well, I need to check on the little one now... to make sure that they're okay, so it looks like you'll be having your sonogram a little earlier."
Santana nods. She eats the candy bar as the doctor leans over to get the machine. She lifts up her shirt and pulls it up under her boobs, pushes her skirt down to reveal her little swell of a stomach. She's squeezing that weird gel stuff onto her tummy when someone opens the door.
"Oh, no..." the doctor starts. "This room is occupied –"
"I'm looking for my wife."
Santana's eyes dart up from the candy bar to look at Brittany standing there in her sweats. Her eyes grow wide as Brittany's narrow curiously and her mouth opens to explain but Brittany's eyes instantly flick down to the swell of her stomach and the gel covering it.
"Santana?" she asks softly. Santana bursts into tears. Brittany steps closer and points to her stomach, the corners of her mouth turning up even as her eyes water. "San-Santana, are – are you pregnant?"
Santana sniffs. "Please don't hate me," she shakes her head. "I was going to tell you, it was going to be a surprise, I just wanted to make sure it was safe so you didn't get sad any – "
She's cut off abruptly by Brittany's lips colliding with her own.
"You're pregnant?" she asks softly. Santana clutches at her cheeks to bring her close. It's felt so long since Brittany's kissed her like that. She nods. Brittany gasps. "You're pregnant," she repeats and it isn't a question.
Santana sniffles. "You look happy," she informs her. "I thought you said you didn't want a baby anymore."
Brittany snorts. "Yeah, because I thought that's what you wanted." She looks down at Santana's stomach, her hand pulling back from touching it before it lands in the gel. It's then that she remembers where they are and she looks at the doctor before her eyes snap back to Santana. "You fell!" she says. "You fell and you're pregnant! Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" she asks with terror.
The doctor shrugs. "I'm sure Baby's fine," she says and then she's clicking on the machine. "You're just in time to see."
She presses the thing to Santana's stomach as she glares up at the ceiling, daring God to let everything be okay. The gel spreads over her stomach and she closes her eyes when all she hears is the weird pulsating echo of the machine.
That's until she hears the telltale sound of a tiny, erratic heartbeat rumbling through it.
Brittany laughs and Santana bursts into tears. Brittany kisses them away quickly, stroking Santana's hair from her face as she turns quickly into an emotional mess.
"You're having our baby," Brittany says with wonder and Santana nods because, yeah, she is.
/
Brittany stares at the tiny sonogram picture like it's made of gold, tracing the outline of the baby's skull, its spine. Santana looks down at her, Brittany's cheek pressed to her hip, and watches as she traces the same outline over her stomach.
"Are you mad at me?" she asks softly.
Brittany doesn't look at her, just shakes her head.
Santana strokes Brittany's hair behind her ear. "Are you scared?"
Brittany stiffens, she looks like she's about to look at her but then she changes her mind. She's silent for a moment, fingers still tracing over her stomach, before she nods.
"I should have told you sooner, then," Santana whispers. "That's why I didn't tell you before. I didn't want you to be scared."
Brittany laughs a little and then she presses a wet kiss to her stomach, right where the doctor had found the baby's heartbeat. Then, she shifts up and presses the same sloppy kiss to Santana's lips.
"You could tell me the day it's born and I'd still be terrified," she shakes her head. Brittany's hand rests over her stomach. Santana likes that. "We're going to be parents, Santana."
Santana moves her hand to cover Brittany's. It hits her then.
"Yeah," she nods in awe. "We are."
/
Pregnancy isn't exactly the easiest thing. She grows and bloats no matter how much or little she eats. She cries all the time and her back aches constantly. Her feet do too and she still gets sick sometimes when a smell catches her off guard. She gets mad and yells, but it's okay.
It's okay because Brittany can't get enough of her, telling her how beautiful she looks all the time. She wipes her tears away and sings her made-up songs to make her happy. She goes and gets her ice cream and burgers at 3 in the morning, no matter what, and spends hours rubbing her back and feet until she falls asleep. She holds her hair when she pukes and kisses her when she's mad, and it all reminds Santana of why she's doing this in the first place.
/
Sometimes, Brittany's fear comes through and Santana has to talk to her.
The only thing that she can't talk her out of is when she refuses to find out what sex the baby is or talk about baby names.
She tries for days until Brittany snaps for the first time since she found out. Santana's huge and she's been trying to get her to talk about names since before she stopped being able to see her feet, but Brittany snaps and it all makes sense.
"I don't want to name them until they're here," she explains once she's calmed down a little. "I don't want to name them until they're in my arms and they're breathing and they're all small and squidgey and cute. When the baby's out here and I can feel it this is all real," she shakes her head. "While they're in there it's still a dream. It can still all go wrong."
Santana pulls her in for a hug, a hug that's kind of difficult now that Santana's so gigantic and rotund. She kisses her on the cheek and she can't argue with that. She doesn't want to push, so she nods and agrees.
/
It's four weeks early.
That's her first thought she gets when she wakes up to a sharp cramp-type pain in her abdomen one night.
Four weeks is a long time for a baby to have left to grow, if you think about it.
She sits up for an hour and tries to convince herself she has indigestion or something, but when her brain starts instinctively counting the distance between them and seeing that they're getting closer together, she starts to think that it's hopeless to admit it's anything other than what it is.
"Britt," she says, tapping her on the shoulder. Brittany awakes after a moment, eyes bleary.
She rubs her eyes. "There's chocolate chip cookie dough in the freezer," is the first thing she says, starting to snuggle back into her pillow.
Santana laughs a little and shakes her head. "No, Britt Britt..." Her words are cut off by the worst contraction she's had so far.
Brittany looks at her for a moment before she bursts into tears. Santana smiles at her before grabbing her cheeks as it subsides and kissing her.
"What are you crying for?" she asks softly. "You're about to become a mom."
That doesn't help, Brittany just cries harder.
/
It takes twenty-four hours for her to get to five centimeters, another twelve for her to get to eight, and another couple for her to get to ten.
By the time it's time to push, she's exhausted.
"No, no, no, Britt Britt," she shakes her head, sobbing. "I can't do it... you do it... you can do it for me, can't you?"
Brittany shakes her head and kisses her sweaty brow. "I'm sorry, I can't, Baby," she whispers into her hair. Santana whimpers. "Can... can I get on the bed with her?" she asks the midwife.
"If she says you can," the midwife says and Santana nods as the two nurses help her to sit up enough for Brittany to get in behind her.
Brittany takes her hands and rests her chin on Santana's shoulder. She kisses the side of her neck and smiles against her ear, pulling away.
"I can't wait to be a mom with you," she whispers and Santana's eyes blink open at the words, renewed with energy.
And there must be something about the way Brittany holds her. She feels stronger, like she's wearing armor, like every push is Brittany's body pushing too. Brittany whispers that she can do it in her ear and Santana can, she does, because sooner rather than later, the air is punctuated by a tiny cry that's the sweetest most perfect sound either of them has ever heard.
Santana breaks down instantly, more in relief than anything, but Brittany gasps when she catches sight of the small but perfect human being that comes from her. She gasps and her mouth widens in undeniable awe as the nurses lay the baby on Santana's chest.
"That's our baby," she whispers and Santana nods, turning to her. Brittany kisses her but her eyes never leave the tiny person atop her. "What is it?"
The nurse looks up to them with a grin. "That's your daughter, Mommy."
Brittany gasps again and Santana can feel her happy tears against the side of her head. "That's our daughter," she repeats and Santana's sobs turn into laughs. "Santana, we've got a little girl."
It's like it's the first time that Brittany's actually believed that this would happen, like she thought getting this far was too much to hope for. Santana turns to her, sees her wide, bright blue eyes and knows that's exactly true. She gathers the baby into her arms and lifts her until she can press a kiss to her head.
"I'm really glad you're here, Baby Girl," she whispers. "I'm really glad you're here."
/
The nurses clean both of them up and Brittany sits beside her the entire time, eyes never leaving the tiny bundle of blankets and new skin in the corner of the room.
"Here she is," they say when they hand her back, nestling her in the crook of Santana's arm. Brittany's hand moves to stroke over the baby's head as they both reach to touch her wherever they can with there other hand. "Five pounds, eleven ounces. Born as the sun rose at five thirty-six am. What's her name, mommies?"
Santana opens her mouth but then turns her head to Brittany, still looking at their daughter's perfect face.
"Sunny," Brittany says after a moment. "Her name is Sunny. Sunny Marie Lopez-Pierce."
/
"I didn't think I could be in love with someone as much as I love you," Brittany admits softly.
Sunny fusses between them on their bed. They got home an hour or two ago and they haven't moved. Santana's still exhausted but she can't take her eyes off the beautiful things laying beside her.
She laughs. "Ditto."
Brittany's face screws up in thought then, her hand stroking over Sunny's yellow onesie-covered torso.
"What?" Santana asks. "Has she crapped again?"
Brittany shakes her head. "No, I'm just wondering," she says. She shifts lower on the bed until her face is level to Sunny's. Her hand reaches up to stroke the back of her finger over a chubby baby cheek as Sunny's lips pout out. "I wonder why you could get pregnant but I couldn't. I'm not saying it's a bad thing just... I just wonder why."
Santana shifts down the bed until her face is level with these two people that are now her family. She smiles when Brittany catches her eye.
"Well," she says in a whisper. "That's easy."
"Oh?"
Santana nods and smiles. "When I married you, I promised to give you everything you wanted and make your dreams come true. I made a promise to always make sure you were happy. That's just the way things are meant to be. It's the way they'll always be."
Brittany smiles and their fingertips tangle over Sunny's stomach.
"Thank you for our daughter," she whispers. "She's perfect."
Santana smiles. "You're welcome."
A few moments later, Brittany glances up to her and narrows her eyes. "So, do I get to make your dreams come true?" she asks.
Santana laughs and shrugs.
She shakes her head with a smile.
"You already did."