My last installment was very serious… here's something more light and dreamy. A different period from almost everything else thus far… maybe she's been in their home for a year and a half here, so she's almost five. Prompted by a review on that asked if she ever got anything like a doll or puppy. Not quite, but...

Ad Infinitum

Soft Sunday morning and she was relishing in the rare opportunity to stretch out expansively in their bed, taking his pillows for herself and wrapping the blankets as tight around her as she dared. A rare opportunity to be comfortable, these days… to sort of amble in this place between waking and sleeping, listen to her own breathing and blink sleepily, let her hair fall out of its tight nighttime coils. She didn't like when he was gone but she didn't mind it so much in these moments… so much space to herself, to lie and be languid in.

For so many years she'd felt so divorced from her body, her corporeal form a tool of her mind rather than part of her being. That had changed with Han, not only because of sex but because of how he seemed so content to just throw his arm around her, touch her casually, get in her space; it had changed, too, with Lynnie, how her body had become something like a jungle-gym hideaway, something to climb on and tug and cling to but also something for her daughter to bury herself in. Lynnie pressing her face into her armpit, her breasts, the back of her knees. Sometimes she had to remind herself that she'd never been inside her body because the baby – not baby, as she was insistent on now, not bébé! – seemed so determined to put herself back there.

And too, now more than ever these past few months – feeling her body in ways she never had before, accepting its limitations, letting it be tender, being a little more tender with it. You wear yourself like Han wears shoes, Luke had told her once. He's got one pair of boots and he just wears them every day and wears them down until they're completely destroyed, and only then does he get another pair. Except you just crash for 72 hours. Well, not anymore.

Dreamy, sleepy thoughts… maybe she would go back to sleep… what time was it where Han was? Was he up yet, how had the contact gone? Had he been up for a long time? Maybe she would message him… or maybe she would just… go back to dozing…

But oh, there it was – the door creaking open, the little feet. Leia peered at her blearily, rubbing her eyes and asking a question to which she knew the answer. "Lynnie… what time is it?"

Lynnie was looking down and spoke around her thumb. "Seven…"

"Mhm… and at what time is it appropriate to wake up your mother on a Sunday if she isn't up already…"

"Wha's'appropriate?"

"Mm… take your thumb out, honey. "

"Wha's appropriate?"

"It means 'okay' – 'acceptable.' What time did we say was okay, 'loved?"

She sucked her thumb a little harder, shy and apologetic. "... huit…" (The Alderaanian an appeal to her mother's soft side – and one that was working, even though she was normally quite strict about her rules, especially the ones that existed for structure's sake – kids need structure, she'd murmured to Han once, and he'd laughed and said yeah, or you need structure for your kids. Kids, at the time, he'd said… how long ago was that? And he'd said kids...)

"Hmm, well then this doesn't seem right," Leia murmured, propping herself up on her elbows. "Is there something you need? Mama's trying to sleep."

"Wanted say hi." Her voice all shy and soft. Blushing a little, peering at her from the doorway still, her messy nighttime braids making a fragile crown around her head.

"That's all? Hi, sweetie."

"Wanted say hi my sister."

"Oh... well, that's very sweet." Leia bit her lip and beckoned her over lightly. "You can lie here with me on Daddy's side if you're quiet."

Her face breaking into a big smile. "Otay."

"Okay. Here you go, mm…" She did her best to help Lynnie onto the bed and then laid back down as Lynnie scrambled to be close to her, looking at her through lidded eyes and patting down her hair lightly. "You have to let me sleep, though."

Lynnie snuggled up next to her side contentedly. "Otay Mama, you sleep."

"Good girl."

A few silent moments, and then: "Mama? S'il vous plaît, I can touch?"

A soft sigh. "Mhm, that's fine. Thank you for asking so politely. Hush now."

And then, there, that tiny, warm hand on the side of the still-surprising hill of her stomach, slow and almost reverent, little palm flat against it. Her little mouth close, her eyes wide and thrilled, a hushed whisper escaping: "Hi." And as if unable to resist, looking back up to Leia and whispering excitedly, "Is my sister can hear me?"

Leia kept her eyes shut but patted her hair, and mumbled, "Hmm… I'm not sure if she can hear you…"

"... Is she has ears?"

"Good question, smart girl… something like ears, I think. But I don't know if they're big enough for hearing yet… I'll ask…"

"Who you ask?"

"Mm… the doctor, honey…"

"Ask my doctor Lia?"

"No, she has a different doctor, remember? Because she's in Mama's pocket?"

"Oh. Otay. You ask her?"

"I'll ask her. Shh, now, let Mama sleep."

"Otay. Go sleep." Keeping her hand in place, though, and sneaking another quick whisper: "Hi!"

What had she said to Han some five or six months ago? Arms crossed tightly, more irritated than anything else: this is the opposite of what the point was. This very very accidental situation she'd very very reluctantly conceded to only after obsessing over Lynnie's confidence and comfort, after trying to imagine what she would've felt had one of her mother's pregnancies held. But if the point was something like their family – something like Sunday morning snoozing – it was beginning to look closer and closer to whatever the point was. Because this definitely felt like the point, the baby pressing her hands to her stomach with so much awe, springing into a talkativeness and confidence they hadn't seen in her before. Announcing to everyone around them, way earlier than they would have liked, My mama has a baby inside, c'est my sister. So eager to be helpful and making a fuss of Leia, attempting to fold laundry and trying to comb her hair for her and so alight with purpose and excitement.

She likes havin' something to look after, Han had observed, chuckling a little.

Leia, who had never liked being made a fuss over and was determined to get through this unexpected pregnancy with as little fanfare and lifestyle change as possible, had scowled. I don't like that. I'm supposed to look after her.

Y'do look after her. She likes protectin' something though. S'like you – wants to help people.

We might've considered a new doll, she'd said drily. Or maybe a puppy.

"Mama?"

"Lynnie Jaina…" Her warning voice, although she still smiled through it – the new addition of her middle name made her grin. Why I don't have a middle name? Leia had said easily, If you want one, you can have one. And Han, so casual and quick, without hesitation – you like Jaina?

Lynnie had nodded so eagerly. (But then again she liked anything he did.) And Leia had given him a look, like um? Where did this come from? And since when do you speak of your mother? All he'd done was shrug, casual, no-big-deal. Thought it sounded nice.

"Mama, does my sister is gonna talk like you and me or mon da?"

"Hm, that's a good question." Leia propped herself up a little, rubbing her eyes. And it was, actually – she hadn't considered that, if the new baby would become fluent in Alderaanian. "Probably like Daddy."

"Pourquoi?"

"Parce que when you were a baby everyone only spoke to you like us, but when the new baby is here, we'll mostly to her like Daddy does."

"I want her to talk like us too, Mama. 'Cause else it's like a secret and she not in the secret."

"What about your da? That doesn't seem fair…"

"He gonna learn." Lynnie yawned and curled up tight against her. "S'il vous plaît, I can touch again?"

Leia shut her eyes again, lying back down. "Yes, just please be gentle."

The small hand there again, soft and hot. She was very averse to people touching her stomach – she was averse to people making a fuss of her pregnancy in general, especially when she had spent so much time trying to get people to "make a fuss" (make accommodations, remember to include, treat with kindness and respect) of her daughter. Didn't much like it even when Han did; detested it from strangers. Hence why she'd instructed the baby – or, the kid, the new baby was the baby now – to always ask beforehand. But something about the genuine curiosity and surprise of her touch felt okay, felt like the point… like she really wanted to feel what was there rather than demonstrate a kind of possession, like she really was so surprised. "Why my sister not move?"

"Cause she's sleeping, honey, like your mama's trying to do."

"Oh." She pressed a small quick kiss where her hand was then pulled back as if embarrassed, shy.

"Mm… that was nice of you… you love your sister, don't you?"

"J'ai-ime... my sis-ter… " Lynnie sing-songed in a little whisper. "Je veux que tu sors…"

"Oh, but if she came out now, she'd be so small... she couldn't play with you..."

"I was that small?"

"Mmmhm."

"But I not in your pocket." Her voice solemn and understanding. Leia didn't know, still, where the pocket thing had come from – maybe because her hands had been in her coat's front pocket when they had told her, when she'd said the baby's right here? Like a marsupial, she'd said to Han, rolling her eyes, and he'd snorted. Like you don't think it's cute as hell.

"That's right, not in mine."

"Like Mama."

"Yes, you were adopted like I was, good memory. Mm… come here. Up here, closer, so I can see those very lovely brown eyes." Lynnie scooted up, and Leia shifted onto her side and put an arm around her, their foreheads close, very serious. "Very lovely. Very intelligent, empathetic eyes."

"Wha's m'pathetic?"

"It means you care deeply for other people and are able to understand them, especially when they're struggling. It's a wonderful quality to have. It means you'll be a good daughter and a good friend and help very many people in your life."

"Oh. Merci, Mama."

"You're welcome." She stroked her hair carefully, brushing it out of her eyes and looking at her with concern. "How're you doing, baby?"

Her voice a confessional whisper again. "I miss my daddy."

Leia smiled a little. "Oh, is that all? He'll be back soon. And we can talk to him today, if you like. That's easy."

"Yes please."

"Okay. I can make that happen." She brushed another piece of hair back. "What about otherwise? With… all this? With – ah, with – your sister?" (This way of speaking also not natural to her – she would have only referred to the new baby as just that, the new baby, mostly did actually, and probably would have opted against finding out the gender, but Lynnie was so eager for it to be made real for her and, well, here they were…)

"J'aime my sister."

"I know you do. But we've – your da and I – have been so much more busy, and your daycare is still very new, and I just…" Here she was, confessing her anxieties to a four-year-old – showing her insecurities in the way she'd hoped she never would as a parent to her child. I don't want her to look after me. I look after her. Why she'd wanted to have a child in a way that was purposeful, deliberate, planned – so she could give her everything, so she could devote her full energy to looking after her.

I worry I'm taking from you, she thought, looking at her eyes as they considered Leia's half-formed question. What if there's a finite amount of attention, and care, and patience I have, and now you're being made to share it? What if there's a finite amount of love I can give and here having given you all of it I must take some of it back for her?

"J'aime my sister and my mama and my daddy."

So she didn't understand the question, but that was fine, it wasn't really question anyway. "Right," she said kindly, patting her back and sighing heavily. "I know you do, 'loved."

"And mes amis… and my Chewie… and mon oncle Luke Skywalker…" Lynnie continued, prattling them off easily, "and my mama's's mama and her's daddy… and my doctor who is Lia… and my professeur de danse..."

"Well, you must have a big heart, then. Very big."

"Wha's that?"

"It means you're a very kind person. It's a very good thing. Come on now, you've thoroughly woken me up and it's nearing eight anyway. Let's get you dressed and I'll see what your da's up to." And as she helped the baby out of the bed and took the hand Lynnie held out to her, very seriously, as if to help pull her unwieldy form to her feet, she realized that of course the question had been answered. J'aime my sister and my mama and my daddy and mes amis and my Chewie… and… and… All that affection not so much distributed but expanded ad infinitum as her heart made room.

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