A/N: This is an installment in the "Care" series, previous chapters are 109, 114, 124, 128, and 129. Warnings for discussion of miscarriage/loss, childbirth in detail, and racial inequality. I really went there on the birth content, fair warning.


Being pregnant is nothing like she thought it would be.

It's indescribable.

It's uncomfortable.

It's incredible.

At sixteen weeks, she feels the bubbly sensation of their baby girl jumping inside her belly for the first time.

She's sitting at her desk when it happens, and it makes her completely freeze.

Up until now, she's felt little tickles here and there, too subtle to convince herself that she's actually felt her daughter moving. But all of a sudden, something that feels like a stream of bubbles ripples across her lower belly once, and then, unmistakably, again…and again.

"Abby," she calls, still frozen in her chair, one hand resting over her belly underneath her sweater, "Abby."

Heels clatter across the wood floor and Abby appears from her office down the hall, looking alarmed.

"What?" she whispers, kneeling beside her chair with wide eyes, "Is something—"

Olivia laughs at an even stronger, more ticklish, bubbly kick, eyes filling with tears. "She's moving. I know it's her—she's moving."

Abby's face splits into a grin, and she stands up again. "Oh. Really? You can feel it?"

She nods, still focused on the sensation to see if she can feel it again; when she does, she laughs again, and Abby does too, sharing in her joy.

"Wow," she whispers, blinking the tears away, "I have to call him."

Quinn walks in from the conference room looking suspicious, crossing her arms. "Call who? You know, you guys have been in here having secret meetings like once a day. If there's a project that the rest of us don't know about, that's hardly a productive way—"

Olivia and Abby glance at each other in amusement, and Abby raises her eyebrows, tipping her head as if to say: 'well? You'll have to tell them sometime.'

Olivia sighs, steeling herself against the fear that comes whenever she's thought about letting anyone else in on their secret. The more people that know, the more people that would have to be told if—no.

Everything is fine.

Everything will be fine.

It's okay to be excited.

The bubbles tickle her from the inside again and she can't help but smile, standing up to take off her cardigan sweater. Her little bump has been easy enough to hide so far with some looser shirts, sweaters, and jackets. Even though she's been pregnant before, this is the very first time her body is actually learning how to stretch and make room, and she's not showing much at all yet. But as the weather gets warmer, the layers are starting to get uncomfortable, and she knows she doesn't have much more time to keep things a secret.

"You know what you're right," Liv sighs, walking out from behind her desk, "I have been keeping something from you. We have a new staff member."

"What?" Quinn exclaims, eyes wide, "Are you freaking kidding me? You hired someone without even letting us meet them?! Oh, but I'm sure Abby met them—"

"—Fitz too, actually," Liv says matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over her loose-fitting blouse.

"Great. That's just great," Quinn scoffs, throwing her hands up, "Well, do we get to meet them before they start? What are you doing?"

Liv has moved closer and is trying to take Quinn's hand. "Would you just calm down for a second? I'm trying to introduce you."

"What are you talking ab—"

Quinn's eyes widen when Olivia smooths her shirt down and places her hand on the small roundness underneath.

"I want you to meet the newest member of the team," she says quietly, swallowing, "She'll join us around November tenth."

Quinn's mouth is hanging open, and she keeps glancing between her hand, Liv, and Abby, in complete shock.

"What?" she breathes, staring down, "You're—this—this is—you're—"

"Pregnant," Liv says, taking a step back and cradling her belly with both hands, "I'm pregnant, yes."

"How—wha—when?" Quinn manages, still staring at Olivia's stomach, then pointing, "When? Because that's—there's a baby—"

Liv stifles a laugh. "I'm about four months now, so, a while. And Fitz would kill me if I told you how, so, you'll have to use your imagination."

"Oh," Quinn says suddenly, looking up, "So it's—it's—"

"Why don't you sit down?" Abby suggests, brows furrowing as she steers Quinn toward the couch by the shoulders.

Harrison glides into the office and starts throwing stacks of paper onto the conference room table, sunglasses dangling from his suit pocket.

"Alright, yours truly, this morning, interviewed not one, not two, not three, but four, potential eyewitnesses," he announces, slapping down a stack of notes to accompany each interview, "Hold your applause until the end."

When no one speaks, he looks around and takes in the scene, confused; Olivia's come back from the kitchen with two glasses of water, handing one to Quinn and downing the other one herself all in one go. Quinn is sitting on Liv's couch looking like she might faint, and Abby is eyeing her with disgust.

"What's going on?" he asks slowly, eyes bouncing between the three of them.

"Liv's pregnant."

Four pairs of eyes shoot to the corner of the room, where Huck has been silently typing on his laptop the entire time, so still and quiet he may as well have been a piece of furniture.

"You're what?!" Harrison yells, turning around so violently that his sunglasses fling themselves across the room.

"Pregnant," Liv enunciates slowly, pulling her shirt straight again to show her belly as proof.

There's a few moments of silence while he stares at her, and then—

"Well, what the hell are we supposed to do about that?" Harrison exclaims, starting to pace, "I seriously hope you're not asking us to hide the President's kid from the world for the rest of its life, because we're all gonna die before we can—"

"No, no, no, Harrison—Harrison!" Abby yells, standing up, "It's okay! It's—it's a good thing. They're happy about it. This isn't a case."

He stops dead, straightening his tie, staring at them again. "Oh. Oh, then that's—that's different I guess. So you—"

"Planned it, actually," Liv says, shaking her head with narrowed eyes, "Seriously? That's how you react?"

"Well how was I supposed to react?" he says defensively, gesturing in her general direction, "You don't even seem like the—I mean I never would've thought—"

"—thought what?" she dares him, raising her eyebrows, "Thought I'd want to pass my exceptional DNA on to the next generation?"

Harrison finally grins, having had a minute to wrap his mind around the idea. "Well when you put it that way—what's wrong with her, then?"

Quinn looks as if the entire world has ended, staring listlessly across the room.

"I'm not sure," Liv wonders, bending a little to try and meet Quinn's eyes with no success, "Quinn? Quinn!"

"We're all gonna be unemployed now, aren't we," she says sadly, to no one in particular.

"No," Olivia sighs, perching on the edge of her desk, "You aren't going to be unemployed."

Quinn finally focuses on her again, looking confused. "We're not?"

"No," Liv says, rubbing her temples, "Why would you think that? I'm not shutting down the business because I'm having a baby."

"But," Quinn says slowly, acting stupid, "Babies are…babies. You'll have to, like, take care of it."

"Her," Liv smiles gently, unconsciously resting a hand on her belly the way she always does at home, "I'll be taking care of her."

"Wait, it's a girl?" Harrison asks, grinning as if this changes everything.

Liv nods, looking around at all of them. "I'm not closing the business. I'm sure things are going to have to change, and I don't know what that looks like yet. I'll take some time off when she's born. But of course I'm going to be here, I'm not going to stop working. Have you met me? I might just have a little apprentice, some days."

"Wait, why are you so calm?" Harrison says suddenly, turning around to look at Huck.

"Yeah, why are you so calm?" Liv asks, craning her neck to look at him, "You don't even look like you're internally freaking out."

"I already knew," Huck says simply, not even looking away from his screen.

"You did?"

"Wait, how—"

"You did?" Olivia asks, hands on her hips, "How?"

"You've been going to the bathroom every eighty minutes, give or take," he shrugs, as if it's obvious, "That's not normal for you. I looked up what it could mean."

She's taken aback, opening and then closing her mouth. "You keep that close of a watch on me?"

"When the door's unlocked, I always know where you are," he says matter-of-factly, and doesn't elaborate any further.

To an outsider, this would sound like stalking.

But to everyone in the room, it's a sweet statement, because they know it's the closest Huck's able to come to expressing how deeply he cares about Olivia and her safety.

"Right," Liv says softly, eyes warming, "Well. She'll need you to know where she is too, okay?"

Huck nods, still typing. "I can do that."


"I told the team today."

That night, they're curled together in bed, spooning as his fingers trace warm patterns over her belly.

"Mmm?" Fitz hums, almost asleep, drugged by her warmth, the smell of her hair, "How'd that go?"

She smiles to herself, hugging him closer.

"Good."


He can't stop staring at her.

At twenty weeks pregnant, her belly has definitely popped and he can't get over how cute she is.

He's started to catch her talking to the baby on a regular basis, and it makes his heart explode.

"I know," she's sighing, in the kitchen when he gets home from work, "I don't really want an apple either, I'd rather have chips, too. I hear you, I don't appreciate the nausea, but I hear you. It's better for us. I'll have some peanut butter too, how about that?"

"She making you sick today?" Fitz smiles sympathetically, leaning against the island.

She makes a face, wrinkling her nose. "I don't think I've eaten enough, I think she's just hungry. I need something before dinner."

"Here," he offers, walking over to cut the apple for her, "I'll do it. Get some more water. I got you grapefruit juice too, if you want some of that. Go lie down, I'll bring this over."

She smiles at him, pouring some water into her juice so it doesn't give her heartburn.

"Your Daddy spoils me," she whispers, on her way over to the couch, taking a sip of juice.

She gets comfortable on the chaise section of their couch and sighs, sliding a hand underneath her shirt. Closing her eyes, she takes a few deep breaths to try and calm the nauseous feeling, gently rubbing her belly.

"It's coming, baby," she murmurs.

"I'm going to start packing you snacks," he teases, coming over with the plate of apples and peanut butter.

"I know," she sighs, crunching into an apple slice, "I need to be better about it. I just get so busy. I have alarms set for meals, maybe I need to set a few more for snacks."

"We'll just fill those giant purses of yours with crackers," he grins, "You can't possibly be out of space."

She laughs, and then takes another deep breath, working her way through the plate of apples, scooping up peanut butter as she goes. Fitz picks up the remote and turns on the six o'clock news, settling in next to her and sliding his hand under her shirt. He picks up where she's left off, tracing slow circles over her skin, resting his palm down every few seconds. They watch quietly for a little while, decompressing from their respective workdays.

"What was that?" he asks suddenly, hand freezing on her belly.

"Wait, did you feel that?" she asks, eyes widening in excitement.

He grins wider, sitting up a little. "Is she moving right now?"

"Yeah," she laughs, setting the empty plate aside, "She's doing her 'Mommy finally fed me' dance."

"I think I felt her," he says slowly, leaning close to her belly as if that will help, "Hi, baby girl. Are you liking those apples?"

"Here," Liv murmurs, reaching over to take another few sips of juice, "Straight sugar, she'll definitely like that."

They wait a few minutes, anticipating her movements.

Olivia laughs a little, and moves his hand. "She's over here now."

They wait again, and then he looks up at her with his mouth open, eyes wide with excitement. "Was that her?"

"Yeah," she grins, "Finally, you can feel her! She must have had a growth spurt."

"I love feeling them," he sighs, kissing her belly, "Hi, baby."

"Say 'hi Daddy'," Liv murmurs, moving his hand again, watching him tenderly, "Say 'i'm just in here jumping around. I love juice.'"

He chuckles when she talks for the baby, still tickled by this softer side of her.

"Do you feel any better?" he asks, looking up at her.

She sighs and nods, closing her eyes as she takes another gulp of juice. "I definitely needed food."

"You could pass out," he sighs, brows furrowing, "Where's your phone, I'm setting those snack alarms."

"I know that," she says sharply, "Time got away from me today, I don't normally do that."

"Hey, I know," he soothes, raising his eyebrows, "I worry about you two, it's what I'm going to be doing for the foreseeable future, remember? Just let me do it, would you?"

She narrows her eyes, slowly feeling the fight drain out of her. He's just trying to help, it's not that—

"—it's not you I don't trust," he murmurs, reading her mind, per usual, "It's the rest of the world, the people who don't care that you're pregnant. I know there's nobody who loves this baby more than you do."

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, closing her eyes, "I'm not used to—to—"

"—to letting someone take care of you?" he asks softly, resting his head against her arm, "Oh, I know that. That's not going to stop me from trying."

Her eyes search his face, and then she smiles gently, leaning down to press a kiss against his mouth.

"You can pack snacks," she says quietly, still a little reluctant, smiling when he grins against her mouth.

"You're gonna get the best snacks anyone's ever gotten."

"Hot Cheetos are a snack," she says thoughtfully, daring him to tell her not to eat them.

It's his turn to narrow his eyes, and shake his head. "Fine."

She grins, leaning down to kiss him again. "Mmm…love you."

"You're being nice to me so I'll get you Cheetos," he teases, kissing her back.

"Mmm-mmm," she hums, nuzzling his nose.

He chuckles, reaching up to cradle her cheek. "I love you too…even though our baby's gonna come out orange."

"She's not," she laughs, hitting him playfully, "Over here."

She takes his hand and moves it again, waiting to see if he can feel the baby moving around.

"How's it been so far this week? Working?" he asks gently, trying not to push her too hard.

"Great," she shrugs, sliding her fingers through his hair, "Other than learning the hard way that I need breaks to eat and drink water, it's been fine. I basically feel normal, other than feeling her kicking around in there."

"Good," he smiles, still looking at her, leaning into the pressure of her strokes, "You still nervous?"

She pauses, thinking, and then she sighs, shaking her head. "It's not like I'm a cop, you know?"

"No," he agrees softly, stroking her belly, "But you're not teaching first grade either. You've had to deal with some pretty rough people before. It's okay to be nervous."

"I think," she starts, nodding slowly, "I think, there will be a time when I'll have to stay in the office. I won't want to go interview anyone. Or take certain meetings. When I'm bigger. When it would be harder for me to protect her. God, I don't even want to think about it."

"Don't," he murmurs, sitting up to kiss her temple, "It won't come to that. You've thought it through enough. As soon as you feel like it's time…then it will be time. You'll know."

She nods and sinks into his arms, tucking herself under his chin.

"Will you make me that pizza for dinner? With the mushrooms and truffle oil?" she asks quietly, after a minute, "I'm really craving that."

He smiles, nuzzling a kiss into her hair. "Sure."


As soon as she's had her twenty-week anatomy ultrasound, and their baby is pronounced completely healthy, she transfers her care to a midwife practice. She's only just started researching birth, and the type of birth she thinks she might like to have, but immediately a traditional hospital birth doesn't resonate with her.

It's difficult to leave Dr. Caldwell, but when she points out that it's not likely she would be on call to actually deliver their baby anyway, Olivia makes her decision. The midwives are so warm, and so kind, that the transition feels seamless and easy.

The first time they tour the new birthing center attached to their hospital, she knows that it's where she wants their baby to come into the world. Every single room is equipped with every option she might want, support for any position she might want to be in; different types of big, inflatable balls, chairs, squat bars, and every room has a large, oval tub.

It's also one of the first times during her pregnancy that she really feels the privilege of money, and it makes her uncomfortable. Many people are approved, health-wise, to deliver in the birthing center, the midwife on their tour tells them; but it's sometimes a struggle to get insurance to cover the cost.

They can pay out of pocket, whether her insurance covers the cost of filling the birthing tub or not, so she adds her name to their list for November and starts to prepare.


They take a private birthing class when she's in her third trimester.

The midwife walks them through the different stages of labor, the mechanics of it, and the different emotions that characteristically accompany each stage. She teaches them a few breathing strategies, and different positions that Olivia might want to labor and, or, push in.

Liv reads, voraciously, every book on labor and delivery she can get her hands on.

When he comes up to bed tonight, she's buried in a book called Unassisted Homebirth, and he stops in front of her and raises his eyebrows.

"Oh please," she scoffs, shaking her head, "We paid way too much for that tub in there to risk staining it with afterbirth. We're taking full advantage of the birthing center, don't worry."

"Just checking," he chuckles, leaning in to kiss her forehead, "Listen, are you sure you don't want to reconsider and just deliver on the hospital side? In case you want an epidural?"

"I don't want that," she says immediately, shaking her head, "I already told you."

"I know," he says gently, treading lightly, "Far be it for me to tell you what to do with your own body. But I just want to point out, I have seen this go down before, and when that epidural kicked in—"

"That was different," she sighs softly, marking her page and putting the book aside.

"I'm sorry, I know," he apologizes, sincerely, "I'm not comparing you, I promise—"

"I know that. That's not what I meant."

She realizes it's probably time.

Reluctantly, she reaches over to her bedside table and opens the drawer, pulling out a large stack of printed papers. Sighing, she hands it to him, and watches his eyes skim over the highlighting on the first page.

"What is this?" he asks, slightly alarmed.

"Did you know," she starts gently, keeping her voice calm and measured, "That Black women my age are three to four times more likely to die from a pregnancy or birth-related complication than White women?"

His breath catches, and he looks at her strangely. "Why would you even think about that? You're not going to die. Liv—"

"Black women have been historically undervalued in hospitals. Our symptoms are dismissed, we're not believed—"

"What—"

"—even Black women with the exact same level of education and healthcare access as their White counterparts are still more likely to suffer complications—"

"—why would you think about something so horrible?"

"Because I have to!" she hisses, eyes flashing.

He's taken aback, and she can see that he is.

And why wouldn't he be?

He belongs to the most privileged group in the United States—straight, white men. Not to mention he belongs to the most elite group in the entire world—former United States President.

She knows he feels untouchable.

In most ways, he is untouchable.

She takes a deep breath, regrouping.

"Let's take a step back," she says calmly, gently taking the stack of research back from him, "I'm not going to argue the statistics with you, because they're right there. I just want you to understand why I don't want to be in the hospital if I don't have to be—"

"—well, Liv," he says incredulously, looking uncomfortable, "That—you're not—I'm going to be with you—"

She's expected this response. She's prepared her words already.

"You think this won't affect me because of who I am? Because I'm carrying your baby?" she asks sadly, shaking her head, "Have you ever seen a Black woman treated any better because of her status? An actress? An athlete? An activist? A politician? Think, Fitz. Give me an example."

"I—"

"—no, really. Think about it. Take a moment."

To his credit, he really does take almost a full minute to think about what she's said. She can see him processing, trying to wrap his mind around something he's never had to think about before. After a few moments, he looks at her again, and she can tell that he doesn't know what to say next, that he hasn't been able to think of the example she's asked him for.

"Status is an illusion. The only difference is that they don't always say it to my face," she continues softly, shaking her head, "Just because I have money, and an education, and a successful business; that won't change a racist's view of me one bit. It doesn't protect me from implicit bias. Because no matter what I've accomplished, I'm still Black, and that's all I am, to them. I'm subject to the same racism as every other woman whose skin looks like mine."

He looks uncomfortable, but she lets him sit with it, reading the bewildered look on his face.

"I need you to help me understand," he asks, finally, "I just—I had no idea. I didn't know that you—I didn't know you were worrying about this."

She picks up the stack of research and hands it back to him.

"I don't need to help you," she sighs, scratching her eyebrow, "Everything you need to know is right there."

He nods slowly, taking the papers from her, swallowing.

"Can I look through all of this? And then can we talk again? I want—I need to educate myself," he says softly, determined.

She smiles gently, reaching out to touch his knee for a few seconds. "Sure. We'll be right here."

He goes downstairs to his office for nearly an hour, and she picks her book up again, only half digesting the content this time.

When he comes back, he looks pale and shaken.

He drops the papers on the bed, and comes to sit with her, pulling her into a hug, holding her.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, stroking her hair, "I'm sorry that I didn't know this. I'm—I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be," she soothes, brows furrowing, "That's not what I meant to do."

"But we're—you're my—"

Partner. Wife. The love of my life. Everything.

He stutters through describing their relationship, and she closes her eyes, rubbing his back. After a minute, he pulls away to look at her.

"We're having this baby together," he says softly, looking into her eyes, "And I should know. I should know these things. For you, and for her."

"Well," she says gently, reaching out to cradle his cheek, "Now you do."

He turns into her palm and presses his lips there, laying his hand over hers and closing his eyes.

"All of that…that's why I don't want an epidural, or medication," she admits softly, shaking her head, "Because with those interventions…I'm giving up most of my bodily autonomy. Once that epidural is in my back I can't walk anymore. I wouldn't even be able to turn over, or eat, or—I just—"

She looks panicked at the thought, and it shocks him.

"But you'll be in so much pain," he marvels, brows furrowing.

"I know that," she nods, rubbing her belly slowly, "But I need to stay in control, if I can. I need to be aware, and…I just need to be in control. And I can do that in the birthing center, much easier than I would be able to in the hospital. The Secret Service doesn't vet for implicit bias, and there are so many people involved on the hospital side, people that I might not know. We've met all five midwives. We know every nurse practitioner. There will probably only be two people in the room with us, there. Can you understand that? Why I would want that?"

"Of course I can," he murmurs, "I can't feel what you feel, obviously, I'll never know what it's like to be on the receiving end of racism. But wanting to be in control of the birthing process…that seems like something anyone would want."

"You know, when you're in labor, you're not sick," she says bitterly, shaking her head, "Hospitals are for sick people. Unless—"

She stops and takes a breath, and he moves to sit closer to her, resting his palm on her thigh.

"If something goes wrong—and it could. Statistically, something could go wrong," she starts, closing her eyes for a moment, "If something goes wrong, I need you to advocate for us. If I tell you something isn't right, I need you to make sure I'm heard. And if something happens to her, I need you to go with her and be her voice."

"Of course, I would do that," he says quietly.

"I just want her," she murmurs, rubbing her belly in slow circles, "I just want her safe, and I want to bring her home. And if something happens, and we need the hospital, I'll be glad we were right there. But you're arguably one of most privileged men in the world and I need you to use that privilege, to make sure we're safe. That's how I can feel secure in labor."

"Look at me," he says softly, cradling her chin.

He can't imagine anything happening to her, or their daughter. His mind can barely go to that place; but if he has even the smallest chance to reassure her—

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he whispers, watching her eyes fill with tears, "I promise you that. Okay?"

She stares into his eyes for a few seconds, and then nods, wrapping her arms around him when he sinks forward and presses a long kiss against her belly.


Fitz watches from the couch, sipping his coffee as she moves through a few yoga poses on the living room floor. It's a Saturday morning, and they're trying to relax and lay low, resting before they have a newborn. Their living room is sun-drenched at this hour of the morning, and their house is quiet; no television, no music, just the sound of her breathing as she stretches.

"I'm only thirty-six weeks, so she's not even done growing," she mumbles, cradling her belly as she sits up in pigeon pose, left leg tucked underneath her, "My body hurts."

"I'm sorry," he sighs, frowning, "I'd take turns with you if I could."

She's quiet as she moves through a few more gentle stretches, carefully switching positions on the floor. He thumbs through his phone, checking emails, looking at the weather to see if they might be able to take a walk this afternoon.

After a minute, a soft noise makes him look up, and he realizes she's sitting cross-legged now, crying.

"Whoa," he says softly, alarmed, "Did you hurt yourself?"

He gets on the floor with her immediately, relieved when she shakes her head, shoulders hitching as she cries.

"I think I'm too old for this," she says tearfully, "I'm not going to be able to do a good job in labor for her."

Just as soon as relief has washed over him, sadness creeps in instead as he realizes why she's really upset. He sighs and settles in front of her, reaching out to rub her shoulders.

"Oh, you're going to be amazing," he soothes, reaching up to swipe a few tears from her cheeks with the back of his index finger, "You're so strong. You're ready."

"No," she hiccups, shaking her head, "I don't think so. I think—and then once she's here, how am I supposed to stay awake all night?"

"You will," he nods, patiently, "You're going to be up nursing her, and rocking her, just like you've been planning. And you might be tired but you'll do it, easily. And I'll keep you company, if you want."

She sniffles and sobs. "What if something happens? What if I can't get her out?"

"You will get her out," he soothes, completely understanding what she's not saying, "She's going to be safe. We're going to bring her home with us."

"I'm scared," she admits finally, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck, "I love her so much. I just want her."

He wraps his arms around her and holds her close, rocking them gently from side to side. "Shhh…shhh…"

Still, after thirty-six weeks, and having a nearly full-term baby rolling around in her belly, she relives the trauma of their miscarriages. There's still a part of her, he knows, that doesn't believe this is real. She's been promised three babies already, and had them torn away from her; the fact that she's had thirty-six weeks with their daughter means nothing, sometimes, and it won't, until she has a baby in her arms.

"She's ours," he whispers, tracing circles over her back, "She's healthy and strong, just like her mom, and we are going to meet her."

She cries into his neck for a few minutes, breaking his heart with every tear. He just wants to take it all away from her; he wants her to be able to enjoy carrying their baby girl, without these moments stealing her joy.

"I want to hold her," she whimpers softly, holding onto him.

"You will hold her," he tells her with certainty, slowly massaging the back of her neck, "Nothing is going to take her from you, okay? She's safe in your belly, and you're going to keep her safe the entire time she's being born."

"And you'll be there," she breathes, reassuring herself more than she's actually asking him.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," he smiles, rubbing up and down her back, "I'll be there every minute. I won't even leave to go pee."

The comment has its desired effect and she laughs a little, wiping her eyes on his tee shirt, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"I guess you can pee, if you need to," she says softly, tracing the stubble on his face, "But if you could hold it, that would be better."

He grins and turns his head to kiss her forehead, resting his lips there. He cradles her while she calms down, rocking her a little, waiting while she breathes and tries to relax.

She stops sniffling, and sits up.

"I could only have done this with you, you know," she murmurs, vulnerable, staring into his eyes.

He tips his head curiously, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"Sometimes, I—I've wondered why," she starts softly, glancing down and then back up again, "I've wondered why it had to be so hard for us. If you're—if we're soulmates, why did we meet like that? But, now I know why. It's because we're meant to do hard things together. We're strong enough for it. Even though it was hard, I had to meet you, so that we could fall in love. And even though it was hard, we made it. I was always going to lose three babies with you, because I wouldn't have been able to do that with anyone else. We were always supposed to have her, you know."

"I do know," he rasps, nodding with eyes full of tears, "I always felt like, no matter who was in my life—I was waiting for you."

That's all he can say before his throat closes up, and he swallows, nodding.

She reaches for him and pulls him into a kiss that starts out soft and warm, but heats quickly. Cradling her jaw, he draws her bottom lip into his mouth and bites down, dragging his teeth, and then parts his lips for her tongue. She sighs and slides her tongue over his again, and again, realigning their mouths to suck on his lip. They drift that way for a few seconds, kissing with a familiar rhythm, hands starting to wander; she cards through his hair and then fists his tee shirt, drawing it up a little.

She stops kissing him, and groans softly against his mouth. "I want you, but I'm just hurting so much today."

He chuckles and kisses her cheek, then her nose. "I know, baby, I'm sorry."

She takes a deep breath and sighs, resting her forehead on his chest.

"C'mere, let me rub your back," he murmurs, coaxing her to turn around, "Where are you hurting the most? Hips again?"

"Yeah," she says quietly, "She dropped a lot this week. It's just a lot of pressure. Can you get me the ball?"

He gets up to get the big inflatable yoga ball from the corner of their living room.

"Whooa," she sighs, taking a deep breath.

His turns around immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she smiles, slowly rubbing her belly, "She's just moving like crazy in there. Big stretch, makes me feel like my stomach might fly out. She likes when I do child's pose, I think, little less gravity on her. I should be careful now, though, she needs to stay head down. They told me she's basically engaged now, but—"

He brings her the ball to lean on and a pillow for knees, and she winces, breath catching.

"Yep," she breathes, squeezing her eyes shut, "Those are definitely feet in my ribs. We're good. Ow, easy."

She drapes herself over the ball and sighs, enjoying the warmth of his hands when he pulls her shirt up. He pushes the heels of his hands in slow, sweeping motions across her lower back, working his way out to her hips. He rubs up and down with deep pressure, and then carefully positions his hands around her pelvis and squeezes with almost all of his strength, pushing the bones toward each other.

"Ohhhh—"

He immediately releases, panicked. "I'm so sorry did I hurt you?"

"No," she sighs, limp over the ball, "That feels so good today, do that again."

"Oh," he breathes, relieved, "Okay, yeah. Like this, right?"

He repeats the squeeze, watching the way it makes her whole body relax.

"I hope you've been using that gym we made," she sighs, "Because she's sitting right on my tailbone and I'm gonna need you to do this a lot. Ohhh…it's incredible."

He chuckles, letting go for a few seconds, and then squeezing again. "The fact that I'm literally pushing your bones back together is only a little disturbing."

"That's the least disturbing thing going on in there," she giggles, "Do you know where my stomach is right now?!"

He laughs outright, resting his forehead against her back.


She's forty weeks and two days pregnant, when she starts feeling like something might be changing.

For two days in a row, she calls out of work and stays at home; keeping track of what still feel like Braxton Hicks contractions, although two or three times they're consistent enough to time for an hour or two, and then stop completely. She finally gets around to washing soft, tiny clothes, walks laps around their backyard, and drinks more water than she has in months. The second day she's home he stays with her, and they walk together, talking about where they might be able to put a swing set, and how cold it's gotten all of a sudden.

Early in the morning on the third day, around four, she settles in for another hour of more consistent contractions; except this time, they don't stop. Four hours later, they're painful, and she's having to breathe through them. She calls the midwives' office to let them know, and they assure her there's plenty of room in the birthing center, to just head there when she feels ready.

She pulls her hair back into a bun, and changes into soft pants, a nursing bra, and Fitz's largest cotton shirt.

Fitz is awake by then, and she drags him outside to walk around the yard, pausing to put her arms around his neck and breathe through each one.

An hour after that she asks him for the big yoga ball, and she takes an hour of contractions on it, leaning on the couch for support, rotating in circles while he squeezes her hips.

"Every time you squeeze, I feel her drop," she murmurs, in between contractions, when they've been trying to talk a little, "It feels so good on my back, it's wild."

"Good," he says softly, laying a cool compress over the back of her neck, "You just let me know, whatever I can do."

An hour after that, she looks at him and tells him it's time to go.


Fitz can't believe their luck when Naihla's on shift at the birthing center when they arrive.

She's done most of their prenatal appointments, and he knows that Liv has really started to feel comfortable with her, building trust. They've had a few longer conversations about her fears surrounding the birth, just the two of them, and how she thinks she'd like to be supported. He's been hoping the entire time that Naihla would be the one to deliver their daughter, and he instantly feels more at ease.

Things only feel 'medical' for a few minutes while they take her vital signs, and ask her a few questions. But after that, they're walked down a long hallway into one of the birthing suites and given free reign over the room.

"How are you feeling? What do you need?" Naihla asks as they settle into their room, watching as Olivia immediately sinks back onto one of the inflatable balls, "You're coping so well."

"They're hurting a lot," she whimpers, brows furrowing as another contraction starts to overwhelm her.

She closes her eyes and reaches for him blindly, bringing him around in front of her so she can lean on him. Naihla hangs back and watches her intently, listening to her breathe and moan, getting a read on where she might be in her labor.

As the pain ebbs away, she comes over and kneels next to Liv. "So, just get as comfortable as you can. You're definitely in active labor. Whatever's been working for you so far, just keep doing that. I'm going to be very close by if you need anything, just let me know, okay? Or have Fitz let me know."

Liv nods and starts to tear up, looking overwhelmed.

"Hey, listen," Naihla says calmly, "You're doing it, okay? You're listening to your body, I can tell, you're coping, you can do this. I know it's your first time, but there's no reason to be scared. Just remember that, when it starts to feel intense, it's all completely normal. It's gonna be intense, that's normal. You're in control of that pain, you lean into it and you use it. This is your labor."

She stays as another contraction comes, lightly running her hands over the parts of Olivia's body that she wants her to relax.

"Good…yes, just let all that go. Oh, you've got this," she smiles, kneeling down again, "Sometimes when that pain comes it incites a lot of fear, and that's normal, because it feels like it shouldn't be there. But I don't want you to be afraid, okay? We don't need to have any fear in this room, because there's nothing happening that isn't normal. You're just bringing your baby out, that's all. You're going to do it, I'm just here to help. Okay? Let's listen to baby."

Naihla brings over the portable fetal doppler, and they listen to the baby's heart all the way through the next contraction.

"She's so strong," Naihla reassures her, switching it off again, "She's tolerating contractions beautifully. She's perfectly fine in there, just getting ready to come on out."

Olivia takes a deep breath and nods, looking a little calmer, more confident.

"Okay," Naihla smiles, rubbing her back, "I'll be around okay? I think you're in good hands with this guy. Make sure you boss him around, make him take care of you."

Liv manages a smile, laughing a little. "He's a really good hip-squeezer."

"Okay, okay," Naihla grins, gesturing, "Well, squeeze away, I'm going to come back in a little while."


Naihla comes in and out every half hour or so, boosting her confidence, assuring her that she is making progress, and checking the baby's heart rate. Liv asks for one cervical check, and hearing that she's six centimeters dilated gives her hope that she really will be able to do this.

But four hours after they get there she hits a wall.

There's a half hour where the pain completely overwhelms her; she starts to panic, and cry, and there's nothing he can do or say that's helping her anymore.

Fitz calls Naihla back into the room and it takes both of them to help her through the contractions.

Naihla never wavers in her coaching, continuously reminding Liv that everything she's feeling is normal, that she can handle the pain, that there is an end point to all of this. She suggests they try a bath, and Olivia agrees immediately. She strips everything off except for her black nursing bra and sinks into the warm water; she instinctually gets on her knees and sinks her hips back, resting her arms on the side of the tub.

"That's a great position," Naihla soothes, bringing a towel over for her to lean on, kneeling in front of the tub, "Focus on letting your hips open. How does the water feel?"

"Better," Liv manages, regaining some of her control, trembling and shaking, "I just don't know how much I—"

"—look at me," Naihla says gently, getting eye contact, "Do you remember when we had that talk about how you'd have to find another gear? This is that moment, okay? When you find that next gear, that will take you through to the end, and you can find it, I promise. Here, put your head here."

She coaxes Liv into resting her forehead on the towel, and relaxing her upper body. Somewhere in between moans she asks for him, and Naihla jumps up to pull him over to take her place. As soon as he kneels down she grabs his arms, breathing even deeper. Her whole demeanor changes over the next couple of contractions; her moans get louder, and longer, but she's not panicking anymore.


He's never seen a more impressive display of mental strength in his entire life.

The part that's blowing his mind the most, is that she's completely in control. Her breaths are slow and deep through every groan, every long, deep moan, and even though her body is shaking with adrenaline and pain, she's calm. The only point of tension in her body, as far as he can tell, are her hands; she's holding onto him tightly during each contraction, and moving her hands up and down his arms in between, like she's double checking that it's still him without lifting her head.

He leans in to murmur against her ear. "Everything is fine. I'm right here. Just do your thing, you're incredible."

She nods a little, and then goes back to her breathing, pressing her forehead into the towel. He wants to ask her so many questions; he wants to ask her if she's getting a break in between contractions, because it doesn't seem like she is anymore; he wants to continuously ask her if she's okay, because he's never seen her in so much pain; he wants to keep reassuring her, every minute, so she won't get scared, so she knows how amazing she is.

But somehow, he knows she doesn't need any of it right now. She just needs to feel him nearby, so she can relax and let her body do the rest.

After a while, she's not able to keep her moans low anymore, and they start to creep up in pitch at the peak of every contraction. At that point, Naihla comes in and he hears her tell a colleague that she can't leave again. His heart skips at that, because she must know something he doesn't; they must be getting close.

Instinctually, he moves in so she has more access to him, and she grips handfuls of his tee shirt, pulling and squeezing. He puts his arms around her, tracing light circles over her upper back, trying not to hold any tension so she doesn't sense how anxious he is at seeing her pain level increase even more.

And then with the next contraction she's trying to stand up on her knees, gasping, pushing against his shoulders for leverage.

"I need—"

She breaks off to breathe.

"I just—I want to be up," she manages, gasping, still holding herself up.

Instantly, Naihla's there, and Fitz starts to pull back a little in case she wants to move.

"That's fine," she says calmly, focused intently on Olivia's face, "Do you want to lean on something?"

"I think so," Liv manages, eyes closed again, "No, no, wait."

She drops back down to her previous position and pulls him close again, fisting his shirt as she tries to control her breaths. After a few minutes, she pushes up again.

"Do you want to keep Fitz near you?" Naihla asks calmly, keeping her questions simple and direct.

Liv nods, opening her eyes to look around, trying to catch her breath.

"How about if he gets in and sits on the edge, then you can lean on him? Do you want to try that?"

While she's thinking about this, Naihla is already going to get another towel, and then explaining to Fitz in more detail what she means. He kicks off his shoes and climbs in to sit on the generous ledge of the tub with his legs in the water, feet on the bottom. They stack two towels in his lap and then Liv moves in to lean against him, pushing her forehead into the towels; she fists the sides of his shirt again, and he loops his arms underneath hers for more support, arms resting on his knees.

"Take a couple like this," Naihla says quietly, "And if it's not working we'll try something else."

Liv is already trying to get through another contraction, shaking with the effort, moaning loudly.

"I feel like I want to push," she manages, in between moans, "But I don't know, I don't know."

"Okay," Naihla says conversationally, "You seem like you might be fully dilated, do you want me to check?"

"Please."

Fitz watches as Naihla reaches a gloved hand into the water, underneath her.

After a moment, she smiles. "You're fully dilated and she's already starting to come down, okay? Just go with your body, if you feel like pushing."

For the first time in hours she lifts her head and looks right at him.

"We're going to meet her," she sobs, reaching up to cradle his face with a wet hand, "She's really coming."

"You're doing amazing," he laughs, eyes filling with tears, "We're going to meet her so soon. You just have a little bit left."

"I'm ready to be done, I want her out," she moans, breath catching with the pain, "This is horrible. It hurts."

"You're doing it," he whispers, pressing his forehead against hers, "Go ahead, I've got you."

He feels her start to collapse into the pain again, and he lets her fold back down to lean against him, helping to hold her up in the position she wants to be in.

He waits for Naihla to coach her through pushing, thinking maybe he'll count along with her, but she doesn't say a word. He realizes she doesn't need to.

Liv starts off with the same moans she's been making for hours, but somewhere in the middle of the contraction she seems to give in to something else, and she starts pushing. He knows she's pushing because her entire body engages, forcing all of its energy down to help her bring their baby out. Her sounds change; they're productive now, like she's working with the pain instead of trying to get through it.

She grunts and gasps for the next ten minutes, bracing herself against the tub, pausing to pant or moan every so often.

"Olivia, deep breath," Naihla encourages softly, and Fitz startles, "You're pushing so well."

She's so hands off that he keeps forgetting she's there; she seems to only jump in when it's absolutely necessary.

"I'm—not—even—"

Liv can't get the words out but Naihla nods, understanding completely.

"I know, your body's just pushing, I know," she soothes, reaching underneath her body, "Baby needs you to take nice, deep breaths okay? Take some deep breaths for her…good. Just let her come down, try to breath for a minute. She's coming down fast, I want you to have time to stretch. You're doing so good."

She's shaking with the force of holding back, but she's doing it, breathing the way Naihla's instructing her to, still holding onto him as tight as she can.

"Good…okay, slow and deep. Perfect," Naihla smiles softly, "You're doing beautifully, Olivia."

"Is she okay?" Liv manages to ask, through a moan, "I want her to be okay."

"She's fine," Naihla soothes, "She's going to be here soon. I can't see what's going on so I'm just going to feel—she's really close."

"I—have—to—"

"Go ahead and push, that's fine. Listen to your body."

Another fifteen minutes go by while she pushes and groans, completely in her own world. He's completely in awe of her, in awe of what's happening right in front of his eyes. He barely notices when another midwife comes into the room and starts to arrange equipment, a tiny hat, a pile of swaddle blankets…and then he's only focused on her because she starts to yell.

"Oh my godoh my god…"

"Lots and lots of pressure, lots of burning, I know. You're just stretching," Naihla says calmly, hand underneath her again, "Deep breaths. You're doing so good. Reach down and touch her."

Liv manages to reach down, under the water, and he can tell the second she touches their baby's head because she starts to cry openly again.

"Oh my god, she's there—"

"She's right there, that's the top of her head. You're almost done," Naihla soothes, "Okay, nice and slow, go ahead. You go ahead and do it, you bring her out. You can."

Her whole body tenses up and she grunts through the pain, yelling, pushing; she leans back and he looks down just in time to see a head full of dark hair—

"Reach down, you've got her—"

She's gasping as Naihla guides the baby's head out, quickly coaching her through slipping her hands under their baby's arms as the rest of her tiny body slides out under the water.

"There's your baby, bring her up—there she is, you did it, mama, you did it—"

Olivia sits back on her heels and sobs, cradling their daughter against her chest.

"Oh my god…oh my god…oh—"

Their baby girl's cries join the mix of noises within seconds, and her body quickly flushes with the deep breaths of fresh air. Liv gasps and sobs, looking down at her for a second, and then dissolves into tears that force her to close her eyes. Her whole body is wracked with relief, with immeasurable joy; it explodes out of her and she can't stop it.

Fitz doesn't realize that his cheeks are wet until his vision blurs and he has scrubs his hands over his face.

"Here you go," Naihla says softly, quickly taking a fresh towel and tucking it around the baby, "Wrap her up."

"Baby," Liv sobs, rocking a little, "My baby."

Naihla takes a few steps back, and they cry together for a few moments, all three of them.

He knows she's crying tears of joy, happiness, disbelief.

But he knows she also crying for the three babies that they'll never get this moment with; the children they'll never know on this earth.

She's crying in sheer relief that the moment is here, that there's a warm, wet, squirmy, alive baby in her arms.

She's crying because she's waited, and waited, for their baby, and he knows all of it because it's why he's crying, too.

Liv gulps and wipes her eyes, folding the towel back to look at her daughter.

"Hi, baby," she whimpers, sniffles, "Hi, baby. Hi. Hi."

Liv looks up at him for the first time, with wide, awestruck eyes.

"You did it," Fitz grins, laughing a little through his tears, "You did it."

"She's real," she cries, leaning toward him, "She's real. She's really here."

Their tears mix as he leans in to press a kiss against her mouth, cradling her cheek. When they kiss again she starts to laugh, suddenly breathless with joy and post-birth euphoria.

"Oh my god, I did it," she laughs, closing her eyes, "I did it. That was so hard."

"You did it," Fitz murmurs, smiling and kissing her forehead.

She sniffs and looks down again. "Hi, baby. Wow. Look at her."

Their daughter has stopped crying for the moment, and she's calmly wiggling in Olivia's arms, twitching with awkward newborn movements as she stretches out for the very first time.

"She's perfect," he whispers, reaching out to touch her for the first time, "She's got a lot of hair."

A wave of emotion overwhelms her again and she sobs, pressing her fingers against her mouth. "She's real. She's safe."

"She's right here," Fitz murmurs, cradling her cheek, "You did that. You got her out, Liv, you did it."

She cries for a few seconds, and then she sniffles again, leaning down to press her lips against their baby girl's forehead. She kisses her over and over, gentle little presses, eyes closed as if she's committing the moment to memory. The baby lets out a few more loud, squawking cries, and then quiets again, resting against Liv's chest.

"What do you think?" Fitz says softly, smiling, "Does she look like a Lia?"

Liv's breath hitches and she smiles, humming and nodding. "Yeah, I think she does. What do you think? Do you like it?"

It takes him a second to realize she's asking the baby, not him, and he grins.

"I think we can take her silence as a yes?" he wonders, tipping his head, "I think when she's learning how to write and she has to learn a hyphenated last name, she'll thank us for only three letters."

She laughs a little, tracing Lia's tiny, impossibly perfect ear. "I think so too. Hi, baby. Hi, Lia."

Naihla quietly comes back with a thermometer, slipping it under Lia's arm.

"Just going to check a couple things while she stays with you, just like we talked about," she says, reassuring Olivia that her wishes are being honored, "Are you feeling alright? We should think about getting you over to the bed pretty soon, you'll be more comfortable."

As she's talking, Liv's breath hitches and she makes a face. "Ugh. I'm just hurting. I feel pressure, is that—"

Naihla reaches underneath her again. "You're just gonna feel my fingers—I know you're sore, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She grimaces, shifting and moaning quietly. "That's—something feels weird. Oww, ow—"

"It's actually right here, already—yep, little tiny push, you got it," Naihla says quietly.

Olivia closes her eyes and pushes once, twice, and her whole placenta slides out into the water.

"There we go," Naihla says happily, scooping it into a pink plastic bin, "Beautiful. Bet that feels better."

"Holy. Crap," Liv breathes, eyes widening, "That's insane. Fitz, did you see that?"

"Yep," he nods, swallowing as some of the color drains from his face, "Kinda wish I didn't."

Naihla rolls her eyes. "Why is it that the placenta always grosses out the dads? You did so great this whole time."

They both chuckle, and their second midwife comes over with a pair of hemostat scissors.

"Alright, well, go ahead and do your thing, and then we can take it away," she grins, showing Fitz where to cut.


Lia Rose Pope-Grant is seven pounds four ounces, and twenty-one inches long.

They don't find this out for several hours though, because as soon as Olivia's able to move over to the bed, Lia is wide awake and wanting to nurse for the first time. She unclips the front of her, now-soaked bra, and takes it off, completely past caring who's around to see her naked.

She's in love.

Just like that.

Like pounding three shots of tequila in a row, it hits her like a freight train and she's drunk with it.

Lia's warm little body has been in her arms since the second she was born, and she can't imagine feeling ready to put her down; how can she possibly be expected to ever let go of this baby? This sweet, beautiful, perfect little baby.

"Hi, baby girl," she murmurs, looking down into her daughter's big, bright eyes, "Hi. What do you think? How did we do? That wasn't so bad, huh? You're out here with us now. It's Mommy and Daddy, we've been talking to you all this time. Yeah."

Lia blinks and opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue, nuzzling around to nurse. She explores almost curiously, taking her time, figuring out where everything's located.

"Almost," Liv says softly, shifting her to get a better angle, "You're right there."

She looks up at Fitz and grins, tipping her face back for a kiss, completely high on hormones. She's laying on the double bed in their room now, a sheet over her lap, knees bent up to take all the pressure off of her lower half. Her breath catches when Lia actually latches, and she looks down to watch as her reflexes kick in and she starts to suckle. Instantly, Lia's eyes close and she's completely pacified, sucking rhythmically right away. Barely twenty minutes old, and she's already working on her most essential skill.

"She just knew how to do that," Fitz marvels, lips parted.

"Did she latch already?" Naihla asks softly from the end of the bed, where she's been monitoring Olivia and setting out the things she'll need later on for a newborn assessment.

"Yeah," Liv breathes, drinking in her daughter's face, "That's incredible."

Naihla smiles, adjusting her gloves. "Well, she came into the world in the loveliest way. Nothing's beeping at her, no lights in her face, no one's touched her but mama, we're all being nice and quiet so she can do what she needs to do. Not everybody can deliver this way, but, it's definitely great for them."

"When do we need to weigh her and everything?" Liv asks quietly, letting Lia's tiny hand curl around her finger.

Naihla shrugs, coming over to sit on the bed. "Not for at least another hour or two. Especially since you'll be here one night, right? Yeah, so if she's nursing that's more important, we don't want to interrupt that."

"Okay, good," Liv sighs, staring down at her baby, "God, she's perfect."

"I do need to do a quick exam," Naihla says gently, "I couldn't see while she was coming out, but just by feel I know you don't have anything serious going on. Do you want me to do it now? We can wait a little bit longer, if you want. It's up to you."

Liv nods, trying to put on a brave face, but she's instantly tense at the idea of anyone touching her extremely sore lower region. She's been dreading this part, not able to wrap her brain around whether or not stiches would even be painful after the pain she's already endured.

"No, just get it over with," she sighs, trying to relax.

"I know you're hurting, I'm sorry, I'll try to be quick," Naihla says softly, focused and all business while she does the essential after-birth task.

Liv closes her eyes, and focuses on the warm weight of her daughter against her bare chest, breathing slowly.

"You, my dear, have no tearing," Naihla announces a moment later, still examining her gently.

Liv opens her eyes in shock and looks down. "Are you serious?"

"Nope. You have two little abrasions I can see here. They're like a scrape, we call it a skid mark sometimes, if we're trying to be funny," she grins, "But no, there's nothing here I need to stitch. Let me just look one more time. I'm sorry, I know. I'm going to massage your uterus and make sure it's nice and firm, okay?"

"That's so great," Liv grimaces, closing her eyes again.

She takes some slow, deep breaths through the rest of the exam, moaning quietly when Naihla pushes on her belly a couple of times.

"You're going to heal up just fine on your own. Your bleeding is completely normal," Naihla says, peeling her gloves off, "Everything looks fine. Go ahead and get comfortable, you're done."

"That's it?" she asks, still not able to believe it.

"That's it, girl," Naihla smiles, "Pretty textbook for a nice, relaxed water birth like you had."

"I didn't feel relaxed. I definitely feel stretched," she says, eyes widening a little.

Naihla laughs, resting one hand on her hip. "You did great. And you will, you're definitely gonna be sore, it's a lot, even when it goes perfectly. Do you want ibuprofen now? It's the good stuff, hospital-strength. That will take the edge off a little bit."

She gladly accepts the pain relief, and then Naihla leaves them alone to cuddle and nurse for a while, now tucked together under soft blankets.

Olivia has completely and totally forgotten about the two Secret Service agents stationed outside their room until Fitz starts to laugh, and directs her attention toward the door, where Beth and Jeremy are waving excitedly, giving them a thumbs-up.

"Oh geez, guys," Liv laughs, covering her eyes, "I'm sorry you had to hear all that."

"Jer almost passed out but I held it down, don't worry," Beth laughs, a mother herself, earning herself an incredulous look from Jeremy, "Sir, we're changing out in five minutes."

"Okay, thanks," Fitz laughs, waving to them as they step away and shut the door.


As soon as it's quiet, as soon as they're alone, wave after wave of intense relief and happiness start to wash over her.

Fitz walks around to the other side of the double bed and lays down next to them, leaning in close so that he can see Lia's face. She's still nursing, cycling between sucking and resting, blinking up at them every so often.

"She's doing so great," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her temple, "I know."

Tears slip over her cheeks and she hums, closing her eyes, and then quickly opening them again because she can't stop staring at Lia.

"She's so beautiful," she manages, lifting the blankets, "Oh my god, look at her feet."

He grins, following her gaze to the tiny toes resting against the top of her soft belly. "Baby toes are too much."

"I love her so much I can't breathe," she whispers, gently kissing her forehead, "It hurts, how much I love her already."

He leans in to kiss her again, lingering for a few seconds. "I can't believe you did that. I mean, I was here, so I can, and I knew you could, but…wow. Was it—I mean, what was it like?"

She closes her eyes for a few seconds, remembering.

"It was the most intense thing I've ever experienced," she says honestly, "I don't even…I don't know how I did it either—"

They both laugh a little, glancing at each other, and then going back to staring at Lia.

"—I guess it's like everything says…the more pain I was in, my body must have just been releasing other signals to help me cope with it. I just kept trying to remind myself that I wasn't dying, that millions of women before me survived that exact pain. I kept feeling for you, and telling myself that if you were there, we were safe."

He nods in agreement, stroking Lia's eyebrow. She's stopped nursing for the moment and is resting quietly, blinking sleepily.

"—I used everything we practiced. I don't know, I just…did it."

"Well," he sighs, leaning in to kiss Lia's head, "I've never been more impressed. With anything. Ever."

She chuckles and looks over at him, watching the way he can't take his eyes off of his baby girl.

"You want to hold her?" she asks, smiling gently at him.

His eyes dart up to hers, and she can see him trying to hold back his grin. "When you're ready."

"I'm ready," she says softly, already shifting a little, "She's ready to meet her Daddy."

"You sure?" he asks, swallowing hard.

She reaches over to cradle his cheek, rubbing with her thumb. "You waited for her too. I want you to hold her."

He reads the rest in her eyes, and he leans in to kiss her softly.

"Okay," he murmurs, sitting up, "Let me get a blanket."

He goes to get another receiving blanket from a stack in the corner of the room, and pulls his shirt off.

"I'll get her, just rest," he says softly, when she tries to sit up a little.

He handles a newborn like someone who…has handled newborns before. This shouldn't surprise her, but there's something about watching him that instantly makes her trust him with their daughter; the first feelings she's had about not ever being able to let Lia go…they're gone, when she watches Fitz pick her up.

When he's settled next to her on the bed again, he reaches over and carefully lifts Lia from her chest, supporting her head. He settles her against his bare chest, skin-to-skin, and snuggles her under the blanket, shushing her softly when she fusses a little.

"Hi, honey," he murmurs, gently resting his lips against the top of her head.

Another powerful wave of emotion slams into her and she starts to cry again, pressing her fingers against her mouth, watching him hold their daughter for the first time.

"We're making Mommy cry," he comments softly, swallowing around his own tears, "Daddy too, apparently."

He closes his eyes and takes a long, slow breath, and she knows exactly what he's doing; she knows exactly how it feels to have this baby on your chest, the exact weight and shape of her, the one they've waited for.

"We waited a long time for you, you know," he's telling her softly, "We couldn't wait to meet you. Are you warm now?"

As soon as his warmth cocoons her under the blanket she's knocked out. Her little puffy lips part, her breaths even out, and she falls into the deep, deep sleep of someone who's just worked hard for nearly thirteen hours to come into the world.

"I know the feeling, lovey," Liv murmurs, smiling sleepily at them, "Daddy's comfy, isn't he? You put her right out."

"Yeah, it's kind of my thing," he grins, gently rubbing Lia's back, "You should close your eyes too, Livvie."

"In a minute," she says softly, staring at their daughter, "I just need to look at her some more."

"She'll still be here after you rest," he soothes, reaching over to rub her shoulder, "You just worked so hard, baby. I've never seen anything like that. Close your eyes."

"She's worth it," she whispers, eyes already closed, "If she needs me—"

"—shhh…I'll wake you, if she needs you, I promise," he murmurs, smoothing her forehead.

She's completely asleep within the next minute, and Fitz sighs, keeping an eye on both of his girls.


3 Weeks Later…

"Lia…come on, lovey," Olivia coos quietly, tickling the bottom of Lia's foot through her soft, peach-colored sleeper, "Time to wake up. I know you're still sleepy, but it's been three hours, I know your tummy's empty. Time for second lunch. Hi, Lia. Hi, baby. I don't want to say I told you so, but—"

As soon as Lia stirs, she starts to fuss and work her mouth, clearly feeling hunger pangs.

"I know," she soothes, letting her wake up a little more, "I know, it's terrible when Mommy's right, huh? You were so cozy, I wanted you to sleep too, but I can't go much longer either. Okay…okay, right here. There you go."

With a little help, Lia latches on and starts to nurse, breathing quickly through her nose. Olivia sighs contentedly, cradling her a little tighter after she settles, using one foot to gently push the rocking chair back and forth.

She's happy.

Blissfully happy.

The past three weeks, cocooned in their house with both of the loves of her life—it's been bliss.

Not every second of it.

But the hard parts, none of it matters; the sore nipples, and the back aches, the sleep deprivation, and the most insane mood swings she's ever experienced.

Her daughter is here, and she's theirs—it still doesn't feel real, sometimes. She has to remind herself sometimes that the gummy bear they first saw on ultrasound, the ultrasound that would have broken her beyond repair had it not gone well, is the same baby suckling at her breast, warm and soft in her arms.

Lia.

Her name feels like music.

Fitz had made fun of her for her obsession with the way names feel.

Lia Rose.

She loves to say it; to coo it while she's awake, staring up at them curiously through slow blinks. She loves to say it while she's soothing her into sleep, nursing and rocking and cuddling. She loves to whisper it long after she's fallen asleep, gently stroking her tiny nose, feeling the consonant and vowels on her tongue.

She just wants to soak up every second of this baby; every noise, every stretch, every blink. It's more than she ever imagined, and she already can't remember their lives before her.

Fitz carefully pushes the nursery door open and she looks up.

"Hey," she smiles sleepily, "What's that?"

He's carrying a set of books, crisp and new, and when he shows her, her eyes flood with tears.

"I ordered these last week," he grins, setting them down on the dresser, "They just got here."

She sniffs and looks over at the bookshelf in the corner, where the first edition A. A. Milne collection, and a little stuffed Pooh and Piglet are resting.

"I think she's—" she starts, and then stops to clear her throat, "—I think she's probably ready for a good story. Eating can get boring, you know."

Fitz just smiles, selecting a book and then coming over to sit on the ottoman next to them. Before he can start reading, she cradles his cheek and brings him in for a warm kiss, letting him know exactly how she feels about his purchase without any words. He kisses her once more, softly, and then settles down.

"One day when Pooh Bear had nothing else to do, he thought he would do something, so he went round to Piglet's house to see what Piglet was doing. It was still snowing as he stumped over the white forest track…"


A/N: The last paragraph is taken directly from The House at Pooh Corner, by A. A. Milne. I so enjoyed writing this. That's really all I have to say, I just loved it lol. The birth itself ended up being the focus of the chapter, and I have some material that I cut out that I might put into another chapter that focuses a little bit more on the actual pregnancy (as a flashback). I'm fairly sure at this point that I have more to write in this series, just not sure when yet! I hope you enjoyed this healing for them. Thank you for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts!