Epilogue 1 – Part 2
Ana
It didn't take long to get an appointment with Dr. Greene. It's been a few days now and the way I feel about it seems to fluctuate with the weather. Mostly happy and panicked at the same time. And in sheer disbelief that Kate basically already knew. Can that woman smell hCG?
I'm surprised by how difficult it is for me to be honest about this with Christian. I say Christian because he's the only one besides me, Taylor, Sawyer, and my therapist who knows right now, and since I don't spill my guts to security and I haven't seen my therapist yet, he's pretty much the only one dealing with me. I can tell that he's excited and I don't want to rain on his parade. Plus, I hate that I'm not just excited. I hate that this moment comes with a dark cloud over it.
I want this. That's not a lie. Above every other feeling, I know that that's still true. But I am afraid of where it's going to leave me, if I'll be able to claw myself out of the abyss a second time. No, this time will be different, it has to be. It has to be.
I've been staring blankly ahead towards a collection of pamphlets in the waiting room. I can feel Christian's eyes periodically on me, and he's rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb trying to be reassuring, but so far, he's giving me space and I'm grateful. I don't know how to talk about this. I wish I wasn't such a mess.
"Anastasia Grey?" a nurse says pleasantly. I smile halfheartedly and get up to follow her down the hall, Christian right behind me. "Is he coming back with you?"
"Yes," he says decisively.
She looks at me for confirmation. "Yes."
"Okay. Sir, you can go wait in exam room three while I get her vitals." I can tell that he wants to grumble about being separated from me, but he kisses me on the cheek and then does what he's told. Imagine. "Follow me, Mrs. Grey."
Once I've had my vitals measured, blood drawn, peed in a cup, and changed into a gown, the nurse leads me back to the room where Christian is pacing. He hovers while I hoist myself up onto the table. I wish things didn't feel so… weird between us. He's doing everything right and it feels like I'm giving him nothing. Is that what it's going to be this whole time? What about when the baby comes? Oh, God, I don't know if I can do this.
"Ana, please talk to me." He breaks through my turbulent thoughts with a firm yet pleading voice.
And say what? 'Hey, I'm happy we're bringing another life into the world, but it also might break me?' "I'm just nauseous."
"No, you're not. That's not your nauseous face. That's your overthinking face."
Well, he's got you there. "Fine. I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."
"Say the truth. Say what you're feeling. Just don't shut me out." There's a brisk knock at the door. "This isn't over," he quickly adds just as Dr. Greene breezes into the room.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Mr. Grey. How are Theodore and Phoebe? How many years has it been?"
"Um, Teddy is five and Phoebe is three. So, a little while now."
She flips through my chart. "Well, I just looked at the results of your test here, and you are definitely pregnant. Given that I just saw you ten weeks ago for Depo Provera, I'm guessing this is a surprise. Are you interested in continuing the pregnancy?"
Christian clamps down harder on my hand. Oh, Lord. "Yes," I say quickly. "Yes, I just… I'm confused how this happened."
She shrugs. "It's hard to say for sure. Of course, the only truly foolproof method is abstinence. We haven't had any other reports of pregnancy from that batch of the shot, so there's no evidence yet of a manufacturing issue. Given that this is the second time this has happened to you, it could just be that your body processes the shot differently somehow." Great, I'm a statistic. "If you'd like this to be your last child, we can always discuss tubal ligation if you're worried about other methods failing."
One medical event at a time, doc. "I think I just want to get through this first." And judging by the tension radiating off of Christian, he has thoughts on that.
She smiles politely. "Of course. Shall we check in on the baby?" She instructs me to lean back and put my feet into the stirrups while she readies the machine. Yippee. Transvaginal ultrasound, my favorite. "When was your last period?"
"I don't know exactly. Pre-shot."
"Oh yes, that's right. Well, we'll see what we can deduce." She slips a condom onto the wand and looks at me. "Ready?" I nod, grimacing in advance, and Christian squeezes my hand. She roots around for a moment, then pauses. "Okay. There's one fetus. I'm just going to take some measurements now." She pauses again. "You look to be about eight weeks along. That puts your conception date at around December 20th and your due date around September 12th.
"Eight weeks? Why am I not showing at all?"
"You appear to have a fairly strong core, and sometimes women with more taut abdominal muscles take longer to show. But subsequent pregnancies usually show earlier, so you should start to notice a change soon. I wouldn't worry, baby is measuring perfectly. See?" She turns the screen to face us, and I'm stunned into silence. It's not a blip. There's a little head, you can almost see little arms and little feet… it's a tiny baby. She flips a switch, and the whooshing sound of the heartbeat fills the room.
"Oh my God," I breathe. This is really, really happening.
Christian raises my hand to his lips and kisses it. I feel him smile. "Ana."
I look up at him and smile back. "Wow." We're really doing this. For the moment… this is good. This is happy.
"Would you like a photo to keep?"
"Yes, please."
"How many copies?"
I glance at Christian again. He looks relaxed, content. "Two."
She hands them over and I pass one to him. "We'll call when your bloodwork comes in and you can check the results online. Have you been taking prenatal vitamins?"
"Yes, as soon as I found out."
"Good. This isn't your first rodeo, you know the drill. Prioritize your sleep, lots of fluids and snacks, make those diet changes. Any questions?"
"No…" I'm staring at the photo in my hands in a daze.
"Ana has a history with postpartum depression that we're concerned about," Christian says.
And my momentary baby bubble is popped. I feel really stupid that I forgot to even mention that. Or maybe I just don't want to talk about it. This is confusing. Dr. Greene appraises me with curious eyes. "I don't have that in your chart, and it was never mentioned to me. After which pregnancy?"
"The last one," I mutter.
"Not the first?"
"No."
"What kind of symptoms?"
"Um… could you talk to my therapist?"
"I could, but I'd also like to hear it from you."
God. Why is this still so hard to talk about? Because it's real now? "Okay… a lot of crying, anxiety, trouble sleeping, um… it's hard to remember. Just feeling very hopeless and anxious."
She picks up my chart and a pen. "For how long?"
"About… five months."
"Starting when?"
"A month or so after she was born. Before that, I think it was normal baby blues, but then it got a lot worse."
"Until your daughter was six months old?"
"About."
She nods. "Okay. Well, postpartum depression can reoccur, as I'm sure you know. You also may be more at risk for depression while you're still pregnant." Excuse me, what? "I'm not trying to scare you. I just want you to have all the facts. If you start to have symptoms again, call me and we can discuss treatment options. Depression during and after pregnancy is very common and treatable, Mrs. Grey. Is there a reason you didn't mention this at the time?"
"I… I thought I was being stupid, and I didn't want everyone to think I was a bad mother."
Her gaze turns sympathetic. "You see a therapist?" I nod. "Continue with that. A chemical imbalance does not make you a bad mother, Mrs. Grey. It's very important to be honest with your providers, we're just here to help you, not to judge. Do you have anyone at home that you can talk to or who can look out for symptoms as well?"
"Yes, right here," Christian says with barely concealed irritation.
She looks at him impassively. "Okay. That's helpful. I can give you some packets on pregnancy and depression. You can get dressed, and I'll be right back with those." She pauses at the door. "Oh, and congratulations, Mrs. Grey. On the baby and the awards."
Oh, God. Has this woman heard my songs and seen my vagina? My life is weird. "Thank you," I say quietly. She nods and steps out, closing the door behind her.
I slide off the table, feeling a heaviness start to settle in, while apparently Christian has decided that he's no longer playing around. "Ana, I need you to tell me what you're thinking about."
I grab my clothes off the chair. "Just… seven hundred different things at once."
He steps in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Tell me five of them."
"You got me pregnant basically on Christmas, I'm due basically on my birthday, our baby went to the Grammys, I don't know how you seem so chill, and I'm really fucking tired."
A ghost of a smile plays at his lips. "Okay. Well, merry Christmas and happy birthday. It's the gift that keeps on giving." This actually gets a laugh out of me. The irony is painful. "Our baby not only went to the Grammys, but they performed. Very impressive for not having been born yet." Another laugh. When did he become funny? He's really hot, too. Wait, focus. "You spent your first two pregnancies being strong for me. I think it's about time I returned the favor. And I think you should lay down when we get home and I'll get you some lunch. You're growing a human being that I plan to love very much, and I don't want you to spread yourself too thin."
I shake my head and slide the gown off. He hands me my bra and shirt. "I have to pick up Teddy and you offering to get me food sounds more like a threat."
He smirks. "More accurately, I was going to ask Gail to make you something and then bring it to you. And I'll go get Teddy. You shouldn't be doing that now anyway; the paparazzi are on the lookout for you again. It's not safe," he says firmly.
"You already took the morning off to come to this appointment with me, don't you have to go to work?" I say as I pull my jeans on.
He arches a brow dubiously. "Believe it or not, Ana, work is not more important than taking care of my pregnant wife."
"But it can't be like this forever. You're going to skip work for the next seven months? I'd better get used to it. I'll be fine, I'll go to bed early tonight."
"Ana. Do you not see what's happening here? You're already putting your own needs aside. You don't have to do any of this alone. And if you're tired, you should rest. I have things that I can work on at home, while I spend time with you. For the next seven months, we'll take it a day at a time and see how you're feeling." His tone becomes authoritative. "Here's what's going to happen. When we get home, you will go lay down, I will bring you food, I will go get our son, and then I will spend the afternoon at home and make my stubborn, magnificent, frustrating, amazing wife relax. Do we understand each other?" He raises an eyebrow, daring me to challenge him.
I open and close my mouth a few times. "Christian… you don't have to do this. I don't want you to put yourself out. You're a CEO, you can't just play hooky because your wife is a little tired."
"Taking care of you is not putting myself out. It's what I want to do. And yes, baby, I can do that because I'm a CEO. I work for myself. And work is nothing on my priority list compared to you. You're not just a little tired. You're pregnant and you're at risk for depression. I know that you don't need help and that you'll be fine, but I don't want you to be fine. I want you to thrive." He closes the distance between us that I put there while I was getting dressed and hugs me against him. "Don't fight me on this, Ana. I'll fight right back, and I'll win. I'm not taking any chances with you."
There's a sharp knock at the door. "Are you dressed, Mrs. Grey?"
"Yes." I go to step back from Christian, but he holds on tighter, not letting me.
She opens the door, a fraction of surprise crossing her face when she sees me in Christian's arms, but it's gone as soon as it came. "Here are those packets." She hands them to Christian, who takes them with a nod. "I want to see you again in four weeks. If anything comes up before then, call me. Otherwise, take care."
We shake hands with her, schedule the follow-up at the front desk, and then Sawyer and Taylor hustle us into the waiting car. As soon as we pull away, I take Christian's hand. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm just… feeling a lot of things. It's confusing, and I'm trying not to dump it all onto you."
"Ana… I can handle it. I love you. Let me be there for you. I refuse to let you go through this alone."
I suddenly feel like I might cry. I'm just overwhelmed with how lucky I am to have him, especially after everything we've been through. We went to hell and back and now we're having a baby! "I love you, too…"
"Ana, what's wrong? Please don't cry," he says anxiously.
"I'm crying because I love you. And because… I don't know, I'm pregnant, it happens."
He laughs. "How could I forget?"
"I really don't know."
The rest of the ride is in companionable silence, and I valiantly try not to fall asleep. I just barely make it. I think one more massive yawn would have been my doom. We find Gail in the kitchen, making something that smells amazing. This seems to awaken some demon in me and it's all I can do to not foam at the mouth. "Gail, what are you making?"
"Oh, just prepping some marinara for stuffed shells." Can I eat it now?
"Could you make something for Ana to eat? She's just going to go lay down," Christian says, eying me with amusement.
"Oh, of course. Are you sick, Ana?" she asks with concern.
"No, no, I'm fine," I answer quickly. Then I realize she's probably wondering why we snuck off to the doctor this morning and I'm going to bed in the middle of the day. Might as well tell her… "I'm just tired because… I'm pregnant."
The spoon in her hand clatters against the counter as she drops it and throws her arms up. "Oh! Oh, Ana, that's wonderful news!" she squeals. "Congratulations to you both! Oh, goodness, it'll be so lovely to have another little one in the house! What can I get you to eat? Anything you want. You know what, I'm just going to go through everything we have. I'll have to fill up the freezer, you shouldn't have to worry about cooking at a time like this. Oh, I'm so happy for you two, and Teddy and Phoebe are going to be just wonderful with a new baby…"
Christian and I glance at each other and share a laugh. Yes… this is a good thing.
As I sit in Catherine's waiting room, I open my purse and sneak one more look at the sonogram. It's the only thing making it feel real, given that I still have no belly. I mean, I guess I have complete exhaustion, aching boobs, and the occasional urge to vomit. You're sucking the life out of me, little one. Good thing I already love you.
It's been a couple of days since we went to the doctor and Christian has barely let me out of his sight. I managed to convince him to go to work, reminding him that staying active is good for me and I can't actually stay in bed all the time, but he calls every hour and texts whenever he's not calling. I think Ezra is starting to wonder why Christian is up my ass all the time during work hours. Obviously, we have still not shared the tiny news nestled inside of me. That's second trimester territory.
He wanted to drive me to therapy himself today, and I had to talk him down by promising to stop by and visit him while I'm downtown.
I miss you. Are you okay?
Speaking of talking him down. I smile at the phone.
Perfectly fine. I miss you too. I'm in the waiting room, not too many calamities that could happen in here! x
Sorry (not sorry). But I warned you that I would drive you insane. I can't help it, being away from you drives me crazy in the best of circumstances. x
You are a tiny bit annoying, but you are adorable. I love you, stark raving madness and all. Gotta go, my turn. The next one of these will be real. x
I quickly type the last bit as the door opens. "Ana. Come on in." I follow her inside and take my usual spot across from her. "So… did you get your news confirmed?" Instead of answering, I take the sonogram out of my bag and hand it to her. She smiles widely. "Oh, goodness, how lovely. I remember those days. Now, just from your body language, you seem… pleased. Certainly excited to show off your little bundle of joy. Am I reading that right?"
I sigh and nod. "I still feel… conflicted. And my moods fluctuate. But… I am happy. The shock is wearing off."
"When we spoke on the phone, you said you were worried about failing your children, not being enough. Do you still have those feelings?"
I clear my throat and put the photo back in my bag. "Yes, I do."
"Talk to me about that."
"There are so many layers to it. I don't want to let my children down. I want to be what they need me to be. And I don't want to be a burden. I'm doing my best to let Christian be there for me, but… I'm not even out of the first trimester yet, and he's already cutting back on time at work. He worries constantly. I mean, realistically, how long can someone do that much for someone else before becoming resentful?"
"You're taking his concern for you and worrying that it will eventually make him resent you?" I shrug. "Ana… this sounds like the pathologically self-sufficient part of you that makes you feel like you have to do everything alone. Has Christian not begged for you to let him in?"
"Yes, but… that was in the abstract. It's real now."
"And has he seemed reluctant to do things like cut back on work? Did you ask him to?"
"No! I said he didn't have to."
"So, he's choosing to. He's choosing you. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"
"He doesn't have to."
"He wants to."
"For now."
"Are you afraid that Christian will leave you?"
"No, but I don't want him to stay out of obligation, and I don't want to drive him away by being… too much."
"Being pregnant and at risk for depression is 'too much?'" she says with air quotes. "When Christian is having a difficult time, do you find him tiresome and to be too much?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"I love him. And I'm not with him to be entertained. I'm with him because I still choose him through all the ups and downs."
"And you don't think he feels the same?"
I pause, considering my words. "I don't think it's fair that the partnership is skewed right now. He's doing so much more."
"Ah. And marriage should be 50/50?"
"Yes, shouldn't it?"
"I would say that's a healthy average to shoot for. But averaging means that one day he could be giving ninety percent and the next day giving ten. Over time, it could still average to fifty. This is likely a time in your life when you need more from him, and he's willing to give you that. I don't doubt that there are other times in your life you've given your ninety percent, and I know you well enough to say with confidence that you're not going to take advantage of his generosity. So, I want you to challenge that voice in your head that's telling you that someone giving you a lot of care and concern is going to get tired of you. Real love isn't like that, and I know you know that."
I'm quiet for a moment, processing her words. "I'm holding myself to a double standard."
"I certainly think so. Do you believe that Christian loves you?"
"Yes, I know he loves me."
"Now you recognize the double standard, and you can call it out in yourself when you see it. I want to briefly go back to what you said about failing your children… what do imagine that is?"
"I wasn't present in Phoebe's early life. I was… there, but not there. Teddy is old enough that he'll definitely notice if something is off with me, and I'll have three to care for now. I can't afford to be not there again, but I know it might happen."
"But your depression wouldn't be untreated this time. You have me, you have Christian, did you inform your obstetrician?" I nod. "Then, you have her as well. And you're not a single mother without resources, Ana. You have a husband. You said your housekeeper helps out sometimes?"
"Yes, but once I have three, I feel like it's unfair to her to watch the other two when I have a newborn again."
"So, hire a nanny."
I feel my lips curl in disgust. "I… a nanny on my third baby feels like failing."
"Because the only way you're doing everything right is if you're doing everything alone?" I stare at my hands, not sure how to answer. "Won't you be working as well?"
"Yes, but I kind of work for myself. And I'll obviously have a maternity leave."
"And when that's over? You'll still have three kids. I'm having trouble understanding how inviting another caretaker in is failing, but so is not being able to do it all if you're ill. It sounds like no matter what you do, you'll always see yourself as failing."
Oh, God. Is that true? I think through both avenues. "I…" I sigh instead of answering. "I haven't figured it out. Being a mother is the most important thing to me. I care about it more than working, but… having some purpose to my life makes me a better mother. I genuinely feel called to do both. I think I have a pretty good balance now with two, but with a third, especially with how much they need you as newborns… it's uncharted territory."
"Welcome to parenthood. One feels like two, two feels like five, and three feels like ten." I laugh. She's definitely nailed it so far. "You don't have to have it all figured out now. I think it's wise to take pregnancy one step at a time. What I do want you to notice today is how negative your self-talk is, and how hard you are on yourself. You deserve to have compassion with yourself as you navigate a new stage of motherhood. Having three will be different. But as long as those children are loved and cared for, you're not doing anything wrong. There's no one right way to be a mother."
I take a deep breath. "Okay." I laugh at the irony of my following thought. "I always tell Christian that his mind is mean to him. I'm really not much better."
She smiles. "But you will be." She closes her folder and sets it aside. "Congratulations on the baby and on being a Grammy winner. Quite a week you've had. Same time next week?" I nod, and we say goodbye.
In the back of the car, I peek at the photo of my little one again. My little not-a-blip. I put my hand on my belly and try to comprehend that I'm technically a mother of three now. It's just one of them is a lot quieter than their brother and sister.
"You'll be loved and cared for. Your whole life. No matter how, I will figure it out for you. I promise you that."
"Did you say something, Ana?" Sawyer peers at me through the rearview mirror.
"No." Not to you, anyway.
"Okay, well, we're here."
He leads me into Grey House, and we put the code in to send the elevator straight to the top. When we arrive, I give Andrea a wave and she starts to smile back when the woman next to her addresses me. "Um, excuse me? Did you need something?"
Andrea is staring at her, wide-eyed and incredulous, and stunned into silence, I think. "Yes, I'm here to see Christian Grey."
She laughs derisively. "Yeah, aren't we all. And who exactly is here to see Christian Grey in sweatpants and a hoodie?" Hey, they're joggers, and it's winter! I know that the circles under my eyes have their own zip code right now, but I don't look that bad, do I?
"Oh, Jesus Christ, she has a death wish," I hear Sawyer mutter. I hide my smile.
"Do you know where he is?" I sidestep her question.
"He's in a meeting. And you should be going. How did you even get up here?"
Before I can answer, she's out of her seat and starts to take my arm, and then before Sawyer can get between us, I hear the distinct sound of her impending doom. "Emily, what the fuck are you doing touching my wife?"
She, Emily, immediately drops my arm and almost cartoonishly looks back and forth between the two of us. "W-Wife?" she finally says.
"Yes, wife. Love of my life, mother of my children, recent Grammy winner, pick a goddamn title. Why the fuck do you have your hands on her?"
"M-Mr. Grey, I-I didn't know, no one told me—"
She's on the verge of tears and now I feel bad for playing with her. "Christian, it's fine. Guarding this place like Alcatraz isn't such a bad thing, surely?"
He turns his stony gaze to me, and his eyes immediately soften. He steps between us and leans down and kisses me tenderly. "I like the real ones much better," he whispers playfully, referencing our earlier texts. God, if I wasn't already pregnant, I think I'd be ovulating now. He turns back to Emily, coldness returning. "If you ever make a mistake like this again, you're fucking gone. Be grateful that I'm in a better mood now thanks to the one you tried to evict."
"Y-Yes, sir." She looks at me with sheer terror in her eyes and then runs back to her seat as Christian takes me by the hand and pulls me into his office.
He greets me with a slightly less decent kiss against the door. "Hi, baby. How was therapy? Any breakthroughs?"
I smile and reach up to play with his hair. "Yep. I'm not very nice to myself. But you love me."
He looks down at me with confusion, then amusement. "I think I could say the exact same thing."
"I know. What a pair we are, huh?"
"How are you feeling?" he asks, quickly glancing me over and brushing a hand over my belly.
"Fine. A little hungry."
"Well, we can't have that. There is plenty of room here at the inn for mothers who got knocked up on Christmas." I laugh loudly. Fuck, he's funny now! "Come on, baby, sit down. Let me take care of it."
I kiss him one more time, throwing my arms around his neck and catching him by surprise. "Okay." And this time, I actually mean it.
A/N: I'm putting on CLOWN MAKEUP for thinking this could be one epilogue when this little baby-on-board arc will now have a third and FINAL (I promise!) part to cover everything that I think is important. I mean, it was either this or cut them telling the kids, and I'm sure there will be riots in the streets if I do that.
The little part at his office was just for fun. Remember the debacle with his assistant way back at the beginning? How we've come full circle.
I'll try to be as quick as I can with the next one, but this week I'm packing up my old place to move to a new one. It has a dishwasher and a balcony! Total luxuries when you're in grad school. ;)