Prompt: Can you do a pregnant hurt/comfort Omelia fic!? I love your fics! Xxx
Here is some fluff and hurt/comfort. I hope you enjoy it!
She's so excited, practically bouncing out of her seat, and he's not doing much better. For someone who is usually so reserved, so, in a sense, stoic, he's radiating with joy. Any passerby would know his smile, know everything he's feeling. She thinks she likes the look on him. He usually keeps those smiles hidden for when they're alone, and that is beyond wonderful; however, she likes that this baby is making him so excited he's lost all control of where and when his joy takes place.
"Dr. Shepherd?" the nurse calls softly, a content grin on her face. Amelia and Owen stand up, Amelia reaching for her husband's hand and interlacing her fingers with his, before making their way over to the nurse holding her chart.
Once they make it to the door, the nurse opens it and leads them back through the soothing building, the walls a pale green and the carpeted floor a nice reprieve from the sterility of the hospital. It's one of the reasons they picked the Women's Clinic at Harborview as opposed to Grey Sloan. That and the fact that it's nice not to have your colleagues acquainted with intimate parts of you unless completely necessary. She checks Amelia's blood pressure, temperature, and asks about her prenatal vitamins and diet, quickly but unhurried. "Dr. Mao will be with you shortly," the woman says kindly.
"Thank you," Amelia and Owen both chime as the nurse nods and gently closes the door behind her. Amelia hops on the exam bed, the paper crinkling beneath her weight. Owen pulls the chair from the wall closer to the bed and sits beside her.
"What time is your shift today?" Amelia asks, resting her head back.
"Not until twelve," Owen says. "Which means," he smiles, "that we can grab brunch after this if you want."
The corners of her mouth begin to turn up at his suggestion. "Oh," Amelia sits up straighter, her dimple making an appearance. "We could try that diner! The one we always say we'll try, but never do because of one thing or another."
He wracks his brain for a few seconds, trying to get on the same page. "Planet Java?"
"Yeah! The retro-looking one." Amelia nods before leaning back once more, her show of excitement coming to a close.
He smiles at his wife, taking her right hand in his and using his thumb to rub her knuckles. The two then turn toward the door when they hear the customary double knock, Owen calling a soft "Come in."
"Hello," Dr. Mao says happily, walking in and setting the files down on the counter before washing her hands. "How have you been feeling, Amelia?"
"Pretty good." Amelia adjusts her head, turning toward her doctor. "The morning sickness seems to be on its way out."
"I bet that feels good," Dr. Mao says.
"You have no idea," Amelia sighs. She places her left hand over her head. "It felt like death."
Dr. Mao chuckles at her patient's dramatic tendencies, having gotten to know Amelia well over the past few weeks. She turns back to her patient, hands dried, and tells Amelia she's going to take some measurements to check the baby's growth and development. "Everything looks good," she says, feeling around Amelia's abdomen. She then turns back to write the measurements in Amelia's chart before tilting her head in slight confusion. "Were you weighed yet?
"Actually," Amelia's eyebrows furrow, "I wasn't." She shakes her head. "I'm not on top of my game."
"That's normal," Dr. Mao reassures. "Forgetfulness can begin to appear in the second trimester."
"Great."
"Amelia," Owen sighs, shaking his head in faux exasperation. She only smiles in return.
"Besides, it's not your job to remind us. I'm sorry about the mistake-we're just so busy today. We'll get it on the way out, okay?" Amelia nods, unperturbed in the slightest. Stepping back, the doctor grins. "Are we finding out the sex today?"
Owen and Amelia meet each other's eyes, confirming one last time that this is what they want. When they finish their silent conversation, Owen looks to the doctor. "We're pretty excited." The obstetrician simply smiles and lifts Amelia's shirt a little higher, tucking the edges of the material under the band of her patient's bra. She pulls the ultrasound machine over and plucks one of the bottles of transmission gel from the warmer. She checks the temperature before squeezing it onto Amelia's stomach. Then, grabbing the transducer, she slides the probe along Amelia's abdomen, pressing a few buttons to get a grainy image to appear on the display.
Owen and Amelia both watch, enamored by their little one. "Alright," Dr. Mao says, moving the probe a little to the side and zooming in. "Congratulations," she begins, pressing print. "You two are having a baby girl!" She turns to smile at the expecting parents, seeing their eyes water with happy tears. She turns to take a few measurements, then says, "Healthy heartbeat, too."
Owen grips Amelia's hand tighter, pulling her fingers up to his lips for soft kisses as they listen to the fast thumping. He looks to her, his watery grin matching hers, both their eyes alight with happiness. Dr. Mao then turns off the ultrasound machine and uses a fresh cloth to wipe the gel from Amelia's stomach. After she's done, she pulls Amelia's shirt back over her slight bump and stands up, clasping her hands in front of her. "Do you have any questions for me?"
Owen turns back to Amelia, raising his eyebrows. "No, I don't think so," Amelia says.
"Okay, well, you know where I am if you need me." Dr. Mao chuckles. "And you have my card." She gives the couple once last reassuring smile before handing over the sonogram, bidding her farewells, and telling them to schedule a follow-up in four weeks.
Once the door closes behind her, Owen holds out his hand for Amelia to use to step down. She smiles and takes it, hopping to the ground, still relatively light on her feet. "Brunch?" he asks, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
"Brunch," Amelia agrees. On the way out, another nurse weighs her and records it in her chart, telling her she's on the low-end of the weight gain for this stage in her pregnancy, but still within healthy margins. The two thank her as they leave, scheduling an appointment for next month, then head out to Owen's truck.
"Was it supposed to be this cold?" Amelia asks as the brisk air hits them, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, trying to bring the warmth back into them. She jumps into the truck when he unlocks it, scooting over into the middle seat.
"Didn't check." Owen hands her his sweatshirt and she shrugs it on easily.
"Thanks," she says with a kiss to his cheek. "I don't think I've adjusted to the weather here yet."
He laughs. "You've lived here for five years!"
"Maybe I'm just cold-blooded."
He shakes his head, but turns the key in the ignition anyway. She easily plugs the address of the diner into her phone and sets it on the dash, and they're on their way. The ride isn't long-the GPS clocks it at six minutes-and she settles into her husband's side for the duration of the trip.
She's quiet and he's happy she's feeling peaceful, content to let her rest her eyes. But when they get to the restaurant he realizes that, somewhere along the way, the bliss of the morning became lost in the tumult of now.
She barely moves as he parks his truck and turns off the engine, even after he nudges her arm. When he uses his hand to push her slightly away, just enough for him to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, all he sees is emptiness. His breath catches at the look of defeat, the look of despair, in her blue orbs. The blue orbs, usually so bright and soft, are hard and dull. "Mia," he says softly. He brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes, but she doesn't move. Just keeps on staring. "What happened?" He tries to meet her eyes. He's unsuccessful. "What can I do to help?" He cups her cheeks in his hands, rubbing his thumbs ever so gently over her cheekbones.
It forces her to meet his eyes, her baby blues connecting with his. At this, her eyes begin to water and, consequently, her resolve starts to crumble. He feels her labored breathing, her trying to keep it locked inside of her, refusing to open her mouth. Her pulse is high and her eyes are wide, and the pain he sees on her face is immeasurable. "I forgot," she whispers. He doesn't understand, but simply continues rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks, subtly trying to soothe her. Sometimes touch is the only way he knows how. She exhales shakily, tears now treading down her face. "I forgot about him. I forgot-" she gasps, her sob loud and vile. "For a second there, I forgot about him." He wipes away a few tears, her face glistening in the sunlight coming through the dash. It would have been beautiful if they were tears of joy. But they're not. They're absolutely not.
"Who?"
"My son," she wails. She's choking for air, her tears getting in the way, her throat constricted with regret. His eyes soften at her admission, and he pulls her into a tight hug. He lets her cry and cry, and cry and cry, until the tears run out. Patting and rubbing her back, murmuring sweet nothings in her ears, he lets her grip his shoulders in a vice.
By the time her breathing slows and her tears are less explosive, he presses a tender kiss to her sweaty temple. "I forgot about him," she says softly. "When we found out the sex." Her body shakes with her hatred, her sadness, surrounding this moment. "I'm his mom," her voice breaks on the title, "and I forgot about him."
Owen lets out a shaky exhale, pained by his wife's obvious misery. He moves his hands back to her cheeks and pulls away slightly, reassuring her as her eyes become panicked that he is not going anywhere. When he settles, he plants a warm kiss on her forehead. He then leans his forehead against hers, eyes millimeters apart and seemingly interlocked. "You did not forget him," he breathes. He cannot fathom the pain of his wife, but he knows she cannot do this to herself: she cannot punish herself for feeling joy, for living her life. "You're not forgetting about him. You never will," he says. "You are moving on with your life, but that doesn't mean you're leaving him behind."
"How do you know? I just," she stops.
"You had a happy moment. You were focusing on your little girl. I'm sure your son knows that." She sniffles, her eyes closing as she feels his words float across her lips. "Even if he was here now, you'd still take the time to appreciate each of your kids separately. It's okay."
"I miss him," she confesses, re-opening her eyes.
He nods, his nose brushing against hers in a small act of intimacy. "And that's normal." He pulls back to press a whisper of a kiss on her nose. "I wish I could have met him. I wish we could have been a family together."
"I wish that, too," she whispers.
"But even though I didn't meet him then, I still love him now." She whimpers at his words, the pain bittersweet. "And our daughter is going to love him, too. She has a big brother up there looking out for her. I think that's pretty special."
Her smile is tiny and her eyes are watery, but he knows she is beginning to feel better. "I think I'd like that. For her to know that." He nods, taking her hands in his and gripping them tight.
"You want to go back home? Get takeout and watch a movie until my shift?"
"No," she shakes her head, pulling her hands from his. He frowns. "I want to go inside," she says, motioning to the diner.
"Are you sure?" He doesn't want her to feel pressured. She had just expended a lot of energy-she must be at least a tad bit emotionally drained by now.
"Yeah," she says with a smile. "I want to make more happy memories." She shrugs off his sweatshirt and adjusts her hair in the rearview mirror.
"I think your son would like that."
She throws him a loving gaze, words unnecessary. "Besides," she adds with a little smirk, "your daughter is really craving a burger."
He chuckles, rubbing his knuckles across her cheek before unlocking the truck doors. "Let's go make some memories."
Thanks for reading! I can't imagine Amelia not having some difficulties during a second pregnancy and really wanted to address that. Comments make me smile :)