Part IV: With Every Breath In My Body the Sweetest Surrender
At forty weeks and one day, Rachel swears.
It's two days before her birthday and one day past her due date, and she is extremely unhappy about both of those facts. Quinn isn't exactly thrilled about the circumstances either. It's not like they'd had any actual plans for Rachel's birthday this year other than quietly celebrating with both of their daughters, out here, in the actual world. The last month has been stressful enough with the holidays encroaching on their time. Of course, Quinn can't even whisper the possibility that it's been more stressful for her because she isn't the one who's pregnant this time, but Jesus fucking Christ, she's stressed the hell out!
If Rachel goes any longer than tomorrow, Doctor Barnes wants to induce labor. She's worried that waiting anymore might cause complications. Rachel's blood pressure finally crossed that fucking line into hypertension at her last appointment on Friday, her due date, when she did not give birth or even feel a hint of a contraction. She claims that's why her blood pressure is so high right now, and for once, Quinn might be inclined to believe her, but that doesn't change the fact that it's been consistently high at every reading since then, and Quinn is freaking the fuck out.
Their doctor has assured her on four separate phone calls that there are no signs of preeclampsia and that Rachel's bloodwork is all fine, that it's likely gestational hypertension and will resolve on its own after Rachel gives birth, but Rachel actually has to give birth first! Quinn knows that the later she goes into her term, the greater the risk will be to both her and Celeste. It's why Doctor Barnes already has them on her schedule for bright and early Monday morning so they can get this show on the road if their daughter doesn't decide to finally come out on her own this weekend.
It's not the way Rachel wants to spend her birthday.
"Damn it," she curses over the sound of breaking glass.
Oliver startles in reaction, and so does Quinn. The cat scrambles up to the back of the sofa with wide, watchful eyes while Quinn's gaze flies to Rachel. Her head is bowed down, hair hiding her face, and her hands are pressed to her belly over the festive red maternity shirt that she's wearing. Heart jumping into her throat, Quinn lunges for her wife in a sudden panic, tossing aside the book she hadn't even really been reading in a pointless attempt to distract herself.
"Mama said a bad word," Callie points out, barely looking up from her abstract lego creation.
Quinn doesn't comment or really even acknowledge her daughter in her rush to get to Rachel's side, hands already reaching for her even while her heart feels like it's trying to jump out of her chest. "What happened? Did your water break?" She presses a trembling hand to Rachel's belly. "Are you in labor?"
Rachel lifts her head, turning baleful eyes to her. "No, because your daughter obviously hates me and wants me to stay pregnant forever." Tears pool at the corners of her eyes and spill over. "I'm so big now that I can't even walk past our Christmas tree without knocking ornaments off," she sobs, gesturing to the shards of glass around her slippered feet.
"Shoot," Quinn mutters, glancing down. She carefully guides Rachel back a few steps away from the mess. "Stay here and don't move," she instructs protectively. "I'll clean it up."
"Which one did I break?" Rachel asks, sniffling pathetically. She looks like she might start bawling outright at any moment.
Quinn steps back and squats down, picking up the biggest piece of glass. "Oh," she breathes out when she recognizes it.
"Oh, no," Rachel cries, twisting her fingers into the material of her shirt. "Please tell me it isn't Calliope's first Christmas. Or our first year married." Every word grows more agitated. "Or the commemoration of our first Christmukkuh together!"
Quinn rises quickly, intent on calming down her wife. "It isn't. It's just the glass cat with the angel wings." Not exactly one of their really special ones, but Quinn had liked it nonetheless.
Rachel's face crumbles in misery. "Judy gave us that." It had been an extra little gift tied to one of the many packages meant for Calliope the year she was born. Judy had meant it as an apology for ever suggesting that Oliver might not get along with the baby when he'd proven, after a reasonable adjustment period, of course, to be very protective of her.
Quinn watches her wife break down in tears and her heart twists in her chest. "Oh, sweetheart, it's okay," she coos, carefully wrapping her arms around Rachel. She keeps the glass shard well away from her. "Ornaments can be replaced."
Rachel fists her hands into the back of Quinn's sweater and buries her head into the crook of her neck, crying in earnest. "I'm so tired of being pregnant." She clutches at Quinn. " I'm huge…and I can't do anything. I can't even enjoy Christmukkuh…and…and I just want this to be over." She releases her deathgrip on Quinn's sweater only to thump her weakly on the back with a closed fist. "She was supposed to be here by now."
"I know," Quinn murmurs, placing a soft kiss to Rachel's temple and rubbing her back one handed. "But she'll be here soon." Even if they have to drag her out on Monday. "Please calm down, Rach. You can't work yourself up like this right now."
"You're not taking my blood pressure again," Rachel mumbles into her shoulder.
Oh, yes she certainly will be. As soon as she gets her wife settled on the sofa and cleans up the glass. "Let's just get you off your feet."
"I don't wanna sit," Rachel whines, tugging at Quinn's sweater. "My back hurts so much. Standing is better."
Quinn leans back, frowning down at her wife. She'd noticed her pacing around this morning, of course, but Rachel has been doing more of that in the last couple of days because Doctor Barnes had suggested that light exercise might help encourage labor. "Your back hurts?" she asks, feeling her heart rate tick up again as she recalls the beginning of her own labor with Callie. She places her palm on the side of Rachel's belly. "Are you having contractions?"
Rachel's brows furrow. "I don't think so." She shakes her head. "I don't know." She tosses her hands out in frustration. "I've never done this before, Quinn!"
"You've had Braxton Hicks," Quinn reminds her nervously. Rachel had first felt the mild, irregular cramping back in September and been on the phone immediately with Doctor Barnes, asking to be seen. She'd been afraid of a too-early labor and even moreso of a late term miscarriage, but their doctor had assured them both that she was only experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions, which are perfectly normal. They've been a sporadic presence ever since then, and Rachel has gotten pretty good at recognizing them. There'd even been an incident the day after Thanksgiving when they'd lasted a little longer than normal and Rachel had thought Celeste might be coming early, but it had proven to be a false alarm too. "How can you not know?"
"This isn't those," Rachel refutes testily, kneading at her lower back. "And you're one to talk. Your water broke in the middle of Central Park! I'm sorry I'm not you."
"At least you'd know you were in labor that way," Quinn replies petulantly.
"Is Baby coming?" Callie asks excitedly, having caught on to the conversation that her mothers have failed to keep quiet. She runs towards them, and Quinn is forced to let go of Rachel to intercept their daughter.
"Careful, sunshine," she warns, hurriedly throwing aside the piece of broken ornament on the nearby chair before she swoops down to catch Callie by the shoulders. "There's still glass on the floor. We don't want you to hurt your feet."
Callie's eyes dart up to Rachel, who's still rubbing her back with a frown. "Is Mama okay?"
"I'm okay, little star," Rachel assures her with a wan smile in her direction. "Don't worry."
"Are we having the baby now?" Callie doggedly asks again.
Worrying her lip, Quinn briefly glances at Rachel before puffing out a frustrated breath. "We don't really know yet," she answers her daughter honestly, choking back the hysterical laugh that wants to bubble out. "Maybe." She lovingly kisses Calliope's forehead before offering up her best reassuring smile. "You wanna go back to your legos until we figure it out?"
Callie doesn't look entirely convinced that she believes either one of her mothers right now, but she shrugs and says, "Okay." Her walk back to the coffee table where her toy is currently spread out in colorful pieces is decidedly less energetic.
Sighing, Quinn stands and turns back to her wife, who has now shuffled over behind the chair (despite Quinn having told her not to move) and is using it as a brace to lean on, head bowed, legs spread, and belly hanging down. Quinn recognizes the position all too well from her own labor.
She's at Rachel's side in an instant. "Please sit down," she pleads, placing a hand on her back.
Rachel exhales heavy and slow. "I'd really rather not."
"Rachel." She's careful to keep her voice quiet so Callie doesn't get too excited again, even as she presses her knuckles into Rachel's lower back and begins to massage it. "You know this is kind of how mine started."
"I know," Rachel says with a sigh, attempting to press back harder into Quinn's touch. "Mmm. That feels good. Keep doing that."
"I have to sweep up the glass." Rachel groans in protest, and Quinn smiles faintly, brushing a length of dark hair off to one side of her neck so she can press a fast kiss to her nape "I promise I'll be quick."
She all but runs to the closet to retrieve the broom and dustpan and makes quick work of cleaning up the remnants of the shattered ornament, including the piece on the chair. As soon as she's satisfied that she's gotten it all, she rushes to the kitchen to dispose of it in the covered garbage can. She leaves the dustpan sitting on top of it and the broom leaning against its side, unconcerned with putting them back in their proper place at the moment.
On her way back to Rachel, she snags the blood pressure cuff from the dining room table where she'd left it after taking her reading earlier this morning. She comes to a stop beside her wife and curls a palm around her upper arm, rubbing gently. "Hey, give me your arm."
Rachel turns her head to look at Quinn, catching sight of the cuff, and she scowls. "Quinn. Seriously?"
"Yes, Rachel. Seriously," Quinn replies sternly. She's taking no chances with this. If Rachel's pressure is spiking because she's in labor—or even just because she's upset that she still isn't—then Quinn needs to know. Rachel sighs reluctantly and straightens from her position to hold out her arm in sullen obedience. The cuff they use is digital and the monitor portion is relatively small, but they were assured by Doctor Barnes that it's accurate enough, and Quinn slips it onto Rachel's arm with the ease of daily practice before starting the monitor.
Rachel grimaces slightly as the cuff tightens. Ideally, she should be sitting down for this to be as relaxed as possible, but since she's being stubborn about that, Quinn is forced to work with what she's got. She resumes a one handed massage of Rachel's lower back in an attempt to help her stay as calm as possible. After a moment, the cuff releases its pressure with a hiss and the monitor blinks with the first reading. She has it set to automatically do three readings in thirty second increments, and the first one does nothing to help Quinn remain calm. "One forty-four over eighty-one," she reads with a worried frown.
"See, barely even high today," Rachel dismisses with a shrug.
"It's high, Rachel." Technically just over the line, but still less than ideal.
Rachel leans forward again, closes her eyes, and takes a few deep, calming breaths. The monitor cycles through another reading, and Quinn's frown deepens. "One forty-six over eighty-three. You're going up, not down." Which is not what usually happens.
"Well, I'm a little stressed at the moment," Rachel whispers harshly, sending her a glare.
The final reading doesn't prove to be any better, though the diastolic pressure does come back down to eighty. "We should call Doctor Barnes," Quinn decides, hastily removing the cuff with the intent of finding her phone.
Rachel huffs out a breath, shaking her head as she stands upright again, one hand still braced on the back of the chair. "I'm not…" But whatever protest she intends trails off into another huff, this one less irritated and more surprised and immediately followed by wide eyes and a soft, "Oh."
Quinn drops the blood pressure cuff on the chair. "What?" Her hands are back on Rachel in an instant, one at her back and the other on her belly. "What's oh?" Even though she really thinks she already knows.
Rachel lays a hand over the side of her belly, just above Quinn's, looking thoughtful. "It could just be the Braxton Hicks again."
That's really all the confirmation that Quinn needs. "Yeah, no." She glances down at her left hand where it's still attached to her wife, peripherally taking note of the time on her watch because she knows that's going to be important later. "You're in labor." Her heart trips over itself and she inhales sharply. "Holy crap, you're in labor!"
It isn't unexpected. She's been anticipating this moment for the last two weeks, watching for it like a hawk and prepping for it like the very efficient, experienced woman that she is, but now that it's actually happening, her mind goes completely blank.
"Quinn."
Her hands jerk away from Rachel to spear through her hair, nervously tugging at the newly shorn strands. "We need to call Doctor Barnes."
"Quinn," Rachel repeats, lightly touching her arm.
"Where's my phone?" she mutters, eyes frantically searching around the apartment even though her feet stay firmly rooted to the floor next to her wife—who is in labor! She doesn't see her phone, but she does see their daughter sitting cross legged on the floor with her attention fully on them instead of her legos.
Lord, they're going to need someone to watch her while they're in the delivery room. Callie can't see Rachel screaming in pain and cursing out Quinn for doing this to her. They have a plan for that. She knows they do, but for the life of her, she can't remember what it is right now.
"Quinn," Rachel says for the third time, firmly dragging one of her arms down from the top of her head to finally get her attention back where it belongs. "I only felt one mild cramp."
"I think your backache counts," she mutters, dropping her other arm to her side. Her wrist bounces against her thigh and her watch clacks against something in her pocket. Oh, yeah—that's where her phone is.
"God, I hope you're right," Rachel exclaims quietly and places both hands on her belly, looking down at it hopefully. "Are you finally ready to cooperate with mama, angel?"
"Mama, are we having the baby now?" Callie calls over impatiently, sounding as frustrated as Quinn feels.
"We still don't know for certain," Rachel answers before Quinn can, offering their daughter a reassuring smile.
"I think we do," Quinn says under her breath.
Rachel ignores her. "You have to be patient with your baby sister." Even if Rachel's expression implies that she isn't.
Callie sighs, crossing her arms on the coffee table and dropping her chin down on top of them. Her face is practically a mirror of Rachel's right now—decidedly unimpressed with the entire concept of patience.
"You should sit down," Quinn tries again, laying a hand against the small of her wife's back.
"I'm not sitting down." She rubs at the side of her belly with a pout "Maybe gravity will encourage our bunny to hop on out a little faster."
Quinn feels her eyes widen at the nickname. "Now you call her bunny?" It's true that Rachel has been very careful not to use the name Celeste in front of anyone but Quinn, wanting to keep it to themselves until they meet her for the first time, just like they had with Calliope, but Rachel has still refused to use bunny outside of teasing Quinn about it.
Rachel rolls her eyes at Quinn before leaning on the chair. "Could you please just rub my back again?"
Pursing her lips, Quinn nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." She moves to stand behind her wife and begins to gently knead the tight muscles once again.
Rachel sighs raggedly, and for a few moments, Quinn dutifully massages her back in silence until she eventually breaks it, quietly saying, "This could all just be another false alarm."
Quinn wonders how that could possibly be true at this point. "Are false alarms even a thing when you're overdue?"
Groaning at the needless reminder, Rachel glances over her shoulder again. "This is all Beth's fault, you know. She jinxed me all those months ago."
Quinn's hands go still on Rachel's back. "Oh, god. She's flying home today," she remembers suddenly. Beth's last final before Emerson's winter break had been late yesterday afternoon, and she's actually thrilled that Rachel is overdue because it means she could still be here for the big event. Quinn's heart trips back into a too-fast cadence when she also remembers all of those plans that she'd momentarily blanked on a few moments ago. "Shelby is supposed to pick her up at the airport."
Rachel's bows furrow at the panicked tone in Quinn's voice. "Well, it's not like I'm inviting my mother into the delivery room anyway." Even their improved relationship hasn't elevated Shelby to that level of intimacy.
"But she's supposed to watch Callie," Quinn frets, already thinking ahead to their contingency plans. Rachel had obsessively created several more this time around for obvious reasons. Even if their debacle in the park with Quinn's pregnancy had never happened, not knowing when Rachel would go into labor and whether Callie would be in school or out and who'd be available to get to her fastest is a factor they hadn't had to contend with the first time around.
"Quinn, we don't even know if this is happening today," Rachel cautions her again.
Maybe not, but it sure as hell seems like it could be happening really soon now. "Why aren't you freaking out more?"
Rachel pushes off the chair and turns to face Quinn. "Excuse me. I think I've been freaking out plenty about being perpetually pregnant." She gestures to her belly in agitation. It's gotten almost comically big in the last week, and Rachel isn't even a little bit amused about it anymore. "At this point, I just want her out."
The little rant strikes Quinn as funny, though she knows it shouldn't, and she battles valiantly against the twitch at the corners of her mouth but ultimately loses. "Well, the back pain isn't affecting your ability to allitere at all."
Rachel bites back her own smile at Quinn's (also alliterated) quip, and she leans closer—as close as she can with her belly between them—and cups Quinn's cheek. "Don't worry, baby. I'm sure I'll be sufficiently freaking out once I'm actually giving birth." She traces Quinn's lower lip with the pad of her thumb before dropping her hand. "I just don't have the energy for it right now."
Quinn catches her hand and brings it back up to her lips, kissing it tenderly. "I wish I could do this part for you."
"You did," Rachel reminds her with a devoted smile. "With Calliope."
"Why did this seem easier when it was me?" Quinn wonders out loud, lowering their joined hands. It's certainly not the first time that she's felt this way. She's definitely not discounting the parts of her pregnancy—well, both pregnancies—that had really sucked for her, but she still remembers feeling more confident about what to expect than she is right now or has been, really, for the last nine months.
"We were in the park, Quinn," Rachel says incredulously, leveling her with a look of disbelief. "Your water broke in the middle of the park and we had to run for a taxi. In what world was that easier?"
Quinn shrugs. "The one where I was the one in labor, not you." Chalk it up to her need to be in control.
Rachel chuckles and leans back against the chair behind her. "That wasn't exactly easier for me."
"Kind of my point here." Quinn gestures to her belly.
"I'm not even actually in…" Once again the sentence ends abruptly in a harsh gasp, and Quinn gets an up close and personal view of her wife's face twisting in pain. "Oh." Rachel leans forward and turns to brace a hand against the chair while the other closes around Quinn's hand like a vice. "Oh, fu…uh…zzy son of a bunny." She's obviously still aware enough of their daughter in the room to watch her language.
Quinn crowds close to her side and wraps an arm around her waist. "That was definitely a contraction," she notes quietly.
Eyes still screwed shut, Rachel nods jerkily. "Yeah." She puffs out a few short breaths. "Yeah, it was."
Quinn is not exactly proud of the mildly hysterical giggle that escapes her, but she is proud that she remembers to check her watch again. "Um…so, like…that was twelve minutes, I think." She frowns, trying to remember if that's correct. "Shoot. Why wasn't I timing that better?"
"Quinn," Rachel breathes out, looking stunned. "I think I'm in labor."
"Yeah," Quinn agrees, nodding rapidly.
Rachel purses her lips and nods too. "Oh, okay." She turns wide, frightened eyes on Quinn. "Now I'm freaking out."
"No. No, no. We're fine," Quinn assures her quickly, wrapping both arms around her now in a comforting hug. Rachel's blunt nails scrabble at her shoulders as she hugs her back desperately. "We're good. We have a plan and a dozen contingency plans." If Shelby is stuck at the airport, they can call Santana to see if she and Teresa can wrangle Callie until one or all of her grandparents can make it here. Kurt is next on the list. Then Josie. Even Jessica and Aileen encouraged them to call if they needed to. "Your water hasn't even broken yet." She pulls back slightly, warily looking down over her wife's body with searching eyes. "It hasn't, right?"
Rachel frowns up at her. "I think I would have noticed that."
"You didn't notice the contractions."
"Quinn!" she admonishes testily.
"Shh," she hushes, pulling her close again. "Calm down, sweetie. We've done this before. You know what to expect." And so does Quinn. She feels a sense of calm settle over her in direct opposition to Rachel's sudden panic. "Five minutes between contractions is the magic number. We've got plenty of time."
Rachel groans, burying her face into Quinn's shoulder. "Time is not my friend, Quinn. Your daughter is already dragging this out."
Quinn bites back a smile. "Maybe she just doesn't want to be parted from you." Rachel groans again but the rumble at the end feels like a little laugh.
There's a tugging at the leg of Quinn's pants, and she glances down to see Callie looking up at them with worry. "Mommy, is it now?"
Chuckling, Quinn carefully extricates herself from Rachel and drops down to kneel in front of their daughter. "Very soon now," she feels confident enough to share, tenderly brushing back Calle's hair with her fingers. "But like Mama said, we have to be patient. Babies can take hours to arrive, even when we know they're ready to be born."
Above them, Rachel groans quietly at the reminder.
Callie chews on the corner of her lip in a habit she probably picked up from Quinn as she glances back and forth between them. "Hours?" she finally repeats, clearly unhappy about the prospect. She inherited her lack of patience from Rachel. Well, from both of them probably.
"Hours and hours," Quinn confirms with a solemn nod. She ignores Rachel's sigh of discontent. "It could happen later tonight or even tomorrow or…"
"I think she gets the idea," Rachel interrupts unhappily, reaching down to squeeze Quinn's shoulder. She forces an encouraging smile for Calliope. "Don't worry, little star. Your baby sister is as eager to meet you as you are to meet her," she promises. "Until then, we all just have to…wait." It clearly takes a valiant effort for her to say that last word.
Quinn licks her lips as she considers their options. The primary plan was Shelby taking care of Calliope since she's the nearest grandparent. Judy is flying in tomorrow morning (with her companion, George) because she didn't want to invade Rachel's space before or during the delivery the way she was so happy to do with Quinn. They'd all thought the baby would be here by now. And Rachel's dads can certainly be here in ninety minutes or less, but that's still longer than it will take a motivated Shelby Corcoran to cross the Hudson.
Shelby had checked in with them bright and early this morning, but with nothing to report at the time other than Rachel's restlessness and general discomfort, she'd ended the call with a mention running some errands before heading to the airport and to let her know if anything changed. Quinn knows Beth could easily grab a taxi or an Uber at the airport if they need Shelby here, but since Celeste could take anywhere from a couple of hours to a couple of days to make her appearance, she's hesitant to summon Shelby too soon. She'll definitely call her anyway to let her know what's happening—after she calls Doctor Barnes, of course. Rachel might not be having regular contractions yet but with her back hurting the way it is and her elevated blood pressure (that Quinn will be taking again very soon), she wants their doctor to know exactly what's going on.
For all of their planning, she supposes that they hadn't fully considered how to keep Callie entertained while they all wait for the inevitable trip to the hospital. Maybe she should call Santana to see if she and Teresa are at home today and might be able to distract Callie with something for a couple of hours. But for now—
"What do you say we put on a movie while we wait? Anything you want." Please don't let it be Frozen again, she silently prays.
Callie seems to consider the offer carefully before grinning. "Can we watch Bruno?"
Well, that's almost as bad, at least as far as earworms go, but Quinn smiles and reaches out to touch the tip of her daughter's nose, eliciting a giggle. "Encanto it is." That one is beginning to show up more and more in the rotation, slowly supplanting Callie's Frozen obsession, and Quinn isn't mad about it. She just wishes that damn song didn't keep getting stuck in everyone's head.
Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushes up off the floor and takes Callie's hand. "Come on, baby bear. Let's get you set up."
She glances at Rachel, looking for signs of discomfort, but other than the hand rubbing at her back again, she doesn't appear to be having any more contractions right now. Rachel gives her a thin smile and nods, so Quinn focuses on getting Calliope settled on the loveseat and starting the movie before gravitating back to Rachel's side.
It seems like Oliver has had the same idea, because he's jumped onto the chair that Rachel is leaning over again and is sitting in the middle of the cushion staring up at her. He hasn't been nearly as wary of Rachel during her pregnancy as he had been of Quinn, seeming to know what's happening with his human this time around.
Quinn's hand instinctively goes to her wife's back. "I really wish you'd sit." Rachel side-eyes her but doesn't answer. "Or you could try lying down."
Rachel grunts again, shaking her head. "Gravity, Quinn."
"I'm not sure that's really gonna make much of a difference." And she's not sure if she can watch her wife pace around the apartment for the next God knows how many hours without going crazy.
"You don't kno….oh," she groans, one hand flying to her belly as she squeezes her eyes closed. Quinn checks the time as she presses her palm into Raachel's back in an attempt to provide some counterpressure to ease her through the contraction. "Oh…oh….son of a bunny," Rachel hisses, shaking her head.
"You know, I'm not sure I like you taking Bunny's name in vain," she tries to joke.
Rachel glares at her. "I'm not sure I like her turning my insides out."
"That's fair," Quinn concedes, silently apologizing to Celeste for all the terrible things that will undoubtedly come out of her mama's mouth today. "That was actually thirteen minutes, by the way."
Rachel whimpers. "That's going in the wrong direction." She turns her glare down to her belly. "You're supposed to speed up, not slow down."
Quinn rubs her back in sympathy. "To be fair, I'm not sure I got the time exactly right for that first one. I was…maybe freaking out a little bit."
Rachel laughs a little. "Yeah, you really were."
"I've got it together now," Quinn promises. "And I'm calling Doctor Barnes." She fishes her phone out of her pocket and brings up her contact info, hitting the speed dial. She silently prays that she gets through and doesn't get funneled into the answering service. It is a Saturday, after all.
She does get the service, but she takes the emergency option and waits through six rings before, by some miracle, the doctor answers. When the woman greets her by name, she suspects that her own cell number has been added as a contact thanks to the numerous calls she's already made. Quinn doesn't waste time with niceties but jumps straight to the point, relaying the timing of the contractions that Rachel has had so far, her persistent back pain, and her blood pressure.
Doctor Barnes advises her to keep checking Rachel's pressure and as long as the systolic reading stays under one seventy and the diastolic under one hundred, they should be okay to wait until her contractions are five minutes apart or her water breaks, whichever comes first. She also mentions the possibility that the back pain could be back labor, especially if it gets worse around her actual contractions, and she suggests some positions that might make Rachel more comfortable while they wait.
Rachel isn't happy to have the blood pressure cuff reattached to her, but she accepts it with very little argument. She also agrees to try sitting backwards on one of the chairs from the dining table, like Doctor Barnes suggested. Quinn quickly moves one into the living room, slotting it between the wingback chair and loveseat and padding it with a pillow from their bed. She helps Rachel straddle it so she can lean her weight forward against the back, and Oliver takes to pacing the floor beneath the chair, rubbing against Rachel's legs at every pass until he finally lays down next to her left foot.
Quinn calls Shelby after that and finds out that she's just about to leave for the airport. Rachel's contractions are still sporadic, jumping from thirteen minutes to eleven and back to twelve, so Quinn convinces Shelby to pick up Beth as planned and promises to call again when Rachel hits the magic five minute mark.
Then she calls Santana because Callie is done with Encanto and fifteen minutes into Turning Red, neither holding her attention very well today, and Rachel's contractions are still no less than ten minutes apart.
"Did the midget pop yet?" is the greeting she gets, but despite the familiar snarky words, there's an underlying tenor of concern in them, and the fact that Santana had answered on the first ring would seem to indicate that she's been watching her phone like a hawk, so Quinn lets the annoying nickname slide.
"She's having contractions," Quinn relays, "but I think we've still got a while before she's in active labor."
"It feels pretty active to me," Rachel grumbles, chin resting on her crossed arms over the back of the chair. She's distractedly watching the movie along with Callie, and it seems to be helping to keep her blood pressure on the lower side of high, but she looks a little worse for wear with her sweat-dampened hair slipping out of a loose ponytail.
"Damn, I figured she'd be the type to cause a big dramatic public scene and need to be rushed to the hospital just in the nick of time. Oh, wait." And Quinn knows exactly what's coming next. "That was you. Twice."
"Very funny." This is hardly the first time she's been teased over her now infamous labors. "And I had plenty of time to get to the hospital. Well, with Callie anyway," she reluctantly amends.
Santana's snicker is expected but short-lived. "How's the kidlet handling everything?" she asks, the concern back in her voice.
"Pretty good, actually, but I don't know how good she'll be after a few more hours of this." Rachel whimpers forlornly, and Quinn reaches over from her position on the wingback chair to rub her wife's back in sympathy while she continues to talk to Santana. "She's already getting kind of restless." Callie has been up and down more than a dozen times to hug her mama or help rub her back along with Quinn. They've tried to explain to her what's happening the best way they can—that Mama keeps getting some aches in her tummy that hurt a little bit when they're happening but help get the baby ready to come out—but since Rachel isn't exactly handling her pain in the most graceful way, Quinn is a little concerned about what their daughter might end up witnessing in the coming hours.
"Callie? Or Rachel?"
Quinn holds back a silent laugh. "Both."
"Want me to come snatch her away for the afternoon?"
Relief washes over Quinn. "Could you?" She hadn't wanted to ask outright and put their friends out, even though Santana and Teresa had both promised that one of them would make sure to be available when Rachel went into labor if Shelby wasn't. They'd all expected that it was more likely to be Teresa and she'd be toting Sofia along with her, but since today is a Saturday, Santana doesn't have any surgeries on her schedule.
"Uh, yeah. I wouldn't have offered otherwise. It's not like Resa and I are doing anything more stimulating than watching Sof chew on her Elmo plush." Quinn smiles at the image. "Just give us, like, thirty minutes to bundle her up, and then we'll take the munchkin off your hands for a few hours so you can take care of your wife."
"Thank you, Santana. I really appreciate it."
"I know you do. I'm awesome like that." Quinn snorts but doesn't disagree. Right now, she thinks her best friend is pretty awesome too. "Hey, you think Cal'll wanna see the train display at the botanical gardens? Sofie got all wide-eyes and grabby hands over the one at Santaland. Not sure what she liked so much about it, but it was all kinds of cute and shit. Choo choo's now part of her vocabulary for better or worse."
She sounds less than thrilled about the addition but no less proud of her daughter, and Quinn chuckles. Watching Santana become a mother has been all kinds of fun for her and Rachel. Their friend is such a big, squishy pushover when it comes to her daughter. It's pretty obvious that Teresa will have to be the disciplinarian, except that she's nearly as bad as her wife. That kid is going to be more spoiled than Calliope, and between Rachel and Quinn and four very doting grandparents, that's saying something.
"I think she'll be happy with anything that distracts her for a while." She glances at her own daughter, who is back on the loveseat but fidgeting like crazy and looking at Rachel every thirty seconds like she's trying to make sure she's still there and okay.
Santana ends the call with a, "Cool. See you soon, mama Q."
Laying her phone aside on the arm of the chair, Quinn scoots forward and leans over. "Hey. Santana said she'd watch Callie for a bit," she says quietly, rubbing Rachel's back again. "Give us a chance to focus on you and Bunny."
Rachel turns her head, lips quirking into a self-deprecating smile. "Are you afraid I'll start screaming and scar her for life?"
"I just know how hard you're trying to make it seem like you're fine so you don't upset her." She's been valiantly trying to smile through her contractions with their daughter next to her and refrain from cursing out their bunny again.
"Well, I'm not…unfine," Rachel acknowledges haltingly. "But this certainly isn't pleasant."
Quinn nods in empathy. "Yeah. I remember." A grimace mars Rachel's face, and she inhales sharply, squeezing her eyes closed before blowing out her breath in a slow puff. Quinn presses her hand into her wife's lower back. "Another one?" she asks softly, all too conscious of their daughter's eyes on them again, even though Rachel is careful to keep her face turned away from her.
"Mmmhmmm," is hummed out on another breath.
Quinn checks her watch again. "Still ten minutes," she murmurs while also taking note of how long this one is lasting.
Eventually Rachel seems to sag against the chair, blowing out one last, deep breath. "Are you kidding me?" she challenges between clenched teeth. "It's been nearly four hours."
Quinn doesn't want to remind her just how long labor can take to progress. "They're coming regularly though, and they're starting to last a little longer too," which gets an unhappy groan from Rachel, "so definitely not Braxton Hicks."
Rachel groans again, dropping her forehead down onto the back of the chair. "That doesn't make it better, Quinn."
"I'll make it better, Mama," Callie vows distraughtly, sliding butt first off the loveseat and scrambling to her mother's side. Rachel's head jerks back up so fast, her face twisting with guilt as Calliope throws her arms around her. "Hugs make it better." She burrows into Rachel's side, tiny fists grasping desperately at her maternity top, and Rachel instantly wraps an arm around her small shoulders.
"Hugs definitely make it better," she agrees, bowing down to kiss the top of Callie's head. "I'm all good now," she whispers emphatically. "I promise."
Callie keeps clinging to her side, and Rachel glances back at Quinn with remorse. The last thing she wants is to upset their daughter.
Quinn slips from the chair and circles behind Rachel, kneeling down beside their daughter and stroking her hair. "You did such a good job making Mama feel all better, baby bear." Callie reluctantly pulls her face from Rachel's side, turning her head to gaze at Quinn. She isn't crying, which is good, but she still seems really nervous and worried. "I should take lessons from you. Why don't you give me one of those magic hugs?" She holds her arms open in invitation. "Show me how it's done."
Callie scrapes her teeth across her lip in silent contemplation, then nods, falling into Quinn's arms. She hugs her daughter tightly, pressing her own kiss to the top of her head. "Wow. That does make everything better, doesn't it?"
Callie giggles a little, nodding into her neck.
"You know, I think I can give these to Mama now too."
Calliope pulls back and looks at her skeptically. "I dunno." Her hesitation is adorable but also mildly insulting.
Above her, she hears her wife stifle a giggle, and Quinn lifts her eyebrows in surprise. "You don't know?"
Callie shakes head, her curls bouncing. "Show me," she demands.
Quinn laughs, scooping her up more closely. "I will show you." She proceeds to pepper Callie's face with kisses, eliciting a chorus of giggles from her daughter and wife, before she stops and hugs her again. "So, did I do it right?"
Callie nods. "Uh huh. But show Mama now," she instructs, trying to push Quinn towards Rachel.
"Yeah, show me," Rachel echoes, tenderly combing her fingers through Quinn's short hair.
Grinning, Quinn lets go of her daughter so she can slip her arms around her wife. Rocking up higher on her knees, she gives her wife a hug from the side, one arm across her belly and the other high on her back, and tips her face up with a grin. "Better?" she asks with a husky chuckle.
Rachel smiles down at her lovingly. "So much better." She leans in to give Quinn a soft kiss, and Quinn returns it happily.
"Ew, kissing," Callie interjects, but she doesn't sound unhappy about it.
Quinn pulls back from her wife's lips with a smile. "Yes, kissing." She reaches out with one hand for her daughter and pulls her into the family hug. "It's even better medicine," she murmurs, kissing Calliope's forehead. "In fact, you did such a good job teaching me how to take care of Mama, I think you deserve to do something fun this afternoon."
The skeptical look is back again. "Like what?"
"Like hanging out with Aunt Santana and Teresa and Sofie. They'll be here in a little while to take you somewhere fun." She's not completely certain how much fun the train display will be for Callie, but she knows there'll be Christmas trees and hot chocolate and treats that she'll definitely enjoy. Anything is better than being forced to watch her mother in labor.
Dark brows furrow into a pout. "But I hafta help Mama."
"You've already helped me so much, little star," Rachel praises her sweetly. "And I'm gonna need your help even more after your baby sister finally gets here. We'll all be so busy…you might not be able to spend very much time with Sofia and your aunts for a while after today." At least not one-on-one time.
Quinn is silently impressed by her wife's skillful and subtle manipulation, and she recalls the many times she's employed similar tactics in the past, not always for the most altruistic purposes. Thankfully, Calliope doesn't seem to realize what her mother is doing, and the thoughtful expression on her face says that she's not thrilled with the prospect that she might not see their friends for a time. "They really want to take you out for one more adventure before Bunny gets here and they have to share your attention," Quinn adds, rubbing her arm.
Calliope tilts her head and gazes back and forth between her mothers. "What kinda 'venture?"
"Aunt Santana mentioned maybe seeing the trains at the botanical gardens, but if you don't think you'd like that, she'll probably do anything you want." Callie's eyes widen with excitement. "Within reason," Quinn warns hastily, belatedly rethinking the implication of her words. "You are not going to visit Santa again, and you're definitely not going back to the toy store so you can con Santana into getting you another Disney play set." Calliope has already been to FAO Schwarz twice as a willing accomplice to Santana buying out half the store to spoil Sofie, earning gifts for herself in the process.
A lip juts out in a pout, and Callie shrugs listlessly. "I guess trains are cool," she eventually relents.
"They're very cool," Rachel agrees, stroking Quinn's hair again. "Your mommy used to ride on a train to come visit me when she was in college."
Quinn turns to her wife with a soft smile. "And Mama took one to see me a few times too." Not as often, admittedly, especially after Quinn had started dating Sarah. She turns back to Callie, reaching out to brush back her bangs. "They can be kind of magical, especially this time of year, and I think the display has miniatures of all the cool stuff around the city too. If you like it, we can take your baby sister next year and you can show her all the awesome things you did right before she was born."
A grin appears on her daughter's lips at this new possibility, and she nods. "'Kay."
"Okay, then. Let's get you ready to go," Quinn encourages, pushing up from the ground and taking her daughter's hand. She's already mostly dressed; she just needs her boots and maybe a heavier sweater. It's not super cold outside today, but it definitely feels like winter is fast approaching and there are some flurries flying around in the air. Luckily, Santana owns an SUV now, so the trip to the Bronx will be cozy and warm.
Pausing only to place a brief kiss on Rachel's cheek, Quinn sets about getting their daughter ready for a day out. When they eventually re-enter the living room, it's clear that Rachel is recovering from another contraction. She's leaning forward on the chair again with her forehead dropped onto her crossed arms as she pants for breath, and Oliver is rubbing against her calf in agitated consolation.
Quinn calmly settles Calliope back on the loveseat before making her way over to her wife. "Did you time that one?" she asks very quietly.
"Still ten," Rachel mumbles, head still down. "I was a little too preoccupied to notice how long it lasted."
Quinn settles her palms over her wife's lower back and begins to massage again, bending down to kiss her shoulder. "Have I mentioned that I'm very much in love with you and so appreciative that you're doing this for us?"
Rachel chuckles into her crossed arms. "Not recently."
"Well, I do, and I am, and I will change every diaper for the first month to express my neverending gratitude."
Rachel does lift her head then, glancing over her shoulder at Quinn. "Only a month?"
"Don't push it, Rach." Quinn clearly remembers having to change more than half of Calliope's diapers despite having been the one to give birth to her.
Sighing, Rachel rests her chin on a palm and gestures down to her belly with her other hand. "I'd like to push this one out of me sometime soon."
Quinn's lips twitch. "Just remember you said that when you're actually pushing."
"I make no promises."
Ten minutes (and another contraction) later, there's a knock on their door. Their doorman has long since learned to buzz Santana up without even bothering to check, and Quinn stands up to let her in. She's stopped just as quickly by Rachel's hand snagging her arm. "Help me up," she demands.
Quinn rolls her eyes. "You're in labor, Rachel. You don't need to get up."
Rachel shakes her head stubbornly. "I need to move around for a bit anyway. I've been sitting for too long."
It's not worth an argument, and Quinn is hoping to convince her wife to lie down in their bed for awhile after Callie leaves anyway, so she helps her stand just as another insistent rap sounds against the door. Rachel gets her feet beneath her and presses her hands to her lower back, arching slightly to stretch out her muscles while Quinn makes her way to the foyer to open the door.
Santana stands on the other side, clad in a leather coat with her dark hair scraped back into a low ponytail. Teresa is at her shoulder in a checkered coat with a bundled up Sofia held securely on her hip. The toddler's dark curly hair is currently hidden beneath a pink knit cap with two points on either side that resemble kitten ears. Only a few curly locks peek out at her temples, and her dark eyes light up in recognition at the sight of Quinn.
"Hey, Q," Santana greets over her daughter's loud babbling (that sounds very much like a soft Q on repeat) as she breezes into the apartment, tugging off her gloves on the way.
Teresa follows with a smile and a soft, "Hi," as she bounces Sofie on her hip. The little girl echoes her mother's "Hi," and Quinn grins at her. The simple greeting is one of the first words that Sofia learned, right after Ma, and she seems to love saying it to everyone. (She definitely didn't get that from Santana.)
Quinn barely manages to get out a reciprocal greeting and close the door behind them before Santana abruptly comes to a stop next to the kitchen, her eyes wide.
"Woah, Streisand. I didn't expect you up and mobile with all of," she gestures to Rachel's belly with a flailing hand, "that going on."
Teresa reaches out with her free hand to poke her wife's shoulder just as Quinn's eyes land on Rachel, who's waddling toward them with one hand pressed to her back.
"Nice to see you too, Santana," Rachel says flatly. She'd obviously attempted to fix her ponytail but still looks rumpled and drained, though her smile is genuine when it lands on Teresa and the baby. "Hello, Teresa."
Sofie happily shouts out something that sounds like, "Aay," at the sight of Rachel. They've all come to recognize it as her attempt to say the Rae part of Rachel's name.
Rachel drifts closer, reaching out to take Sofie's tiny, flailing hand with her own. "Hi, Sofia," she coos around a grin, and the toddler instantly repeats it back to her, making Rachel smile even wider. "Aren't you adorable in your little hat?"
Sofie squeals in happiness and ducks her face shyly into her mother's neck. Teresa grins and adjusts her giggling daughter on her hip. "She thanks you for that, by the way." She leans in and gives Rachel a one armed hug and quick kiss on the cheek. "Hi. How are you feeling?"
"I've been better," Rachel drawls wryly as she pulls back, flashing a brave smile. "But I'm powering through." She cups her belly with both hands. "I just wish she'd hurry up already."
Quinn gravitates to her wife's side. "The contractions are still holding steady at ten minutes," she explains, and Teresa grimaces in sympathy.
Santana's expression is more smirk than sympathy. "The tadpole's still refusing to hop outta the pond, huh?"
"Really not in the mood to yell at you about that nickname right now, Santana," Rachel snaps with a scowl, rubbing at her belly.
Santana snickers but holds up her hands in immediate surrender. "I promise it'll be the only time you'll hear it today." She steps into Rachel's space then and wraps her up in an unsolicited hug, rubbing her back in a comforting gesture. "You got this, Rachel," she murmurs close to her ear, turning her head to kiss Rachel's cheek before she lets go. She touches the top of Rachel's belly for good measure "I know our reinita is in good hands."
Rachel's eyes glisten and she sniffles, nodding jerkily, and Santana nods back and briefly squeezes her shoulder, offering a reassuring smile before making a beeline to Calliope, who's bouncing on her toes behind them. Santana immediately sinks down onto her knees and reaches for her goddaughter. "Hey, there, chiquitita," she greets, tugging Callie into a hug and kissing her cheek too before pulling back with a grin. "You excited to meet your baby sis?"
"Uh huh," Callie answers with a nod.
Santana tips her head to the side, studying Calliope with a knowing smile. "Kinda hard waiting for the big event though, right?'
Callie sighs. "Yeah."
Santana sits back on her haunches and gently runs a knuckle under Callie's chin, grinning impishly. "How about we go see what trouble we can get into while Mommy and Mama keep doing all this boring waiting stuff?"
Calliope looks up at Rachel a little warily. "You'll be okay?"
"I will be perfect, little star." She leans into Quinn's side with a comforting smile. "Mommy will take very good care of me and the baby."
Quinn nods and solemnly vows, "Just like you taught me."
"Okay," Callie accepts before looking back to Santana with a curious smile. "Are we gonna see the trains?"
"If you want," Santana answers, pushing herself up to stand again. "Maybe we'll grab some grub too. Burgers and milkshakes?" She offers a hand for Calliope to take.
Calliope's eyes go wide. "Yes," she shouts happily before Quinn can object, practically buzzing with eagerness as she grabs hold of Santana's hand.
"Santana," Quinn quietly admonishes.
Her best friend gives her a look. "What? It's a big day." She shrugs. "It deserves some grease and sugar."
Quinn releases a sigh of resignation. "I'll call you if things start progressing any faster, otherwise, just bring her home after dinner. Shelby is still set to watch her tonight." And hopefully, she'll be the one who'll have to deal with any excess energy from the sugar. Quinn needs to be able to stay focused on Rachel as much as possible.
"I know the plan, Q. All the plans," Santana assures her with a roll of her eyes as she leads Calliope over to Teresa. It's not a day to invite them in to sit and chat, and they all know that. "Your wife emailed me two copies of them in multiple file formats." And Rachel nods emphatically against Quinn's shoulder.
"We'll take good care of Callie," Teresa promises them both as she adjusts Sofie's weight on her hip once again in an effort to keep her from tipping forward onto the floor from her eager attempt to reach Calliope, who's waving up at her with a big grin. (Sofie seems undeterred and keeps chanting, "Cah," over and over.) "You just worry about bringing that little one into the world."
Rachel smiles gratefully. "Thank you, Teresa."
Santana moves into Quinn's space, nodding towards Rachel. "Take care of them, Q."
As if Quinn would do anything else. "You know I will."
"Seriously, though." Santana leans closer, dropping her voice. "You call if you need me to come to the hospital and kick some as-," she cuts herself off, eyes darting quickly down to Caliie. "Astray nurse's behind into gear," she finishes more wholesomely but no less meaningfully.
Quinn lets the near curse go and squeezes her best friend's shoulder in gratitude. "Thanks, San."
Her arm slips away from Rachel's waist so she can bend down to hug her daughter. "We'll see you soon, sunshine." She presses a kiss to her soft cheek. "I love you."
"Love you, Mommy," Callie echoes back, hugging Quinn's neck before letting go to hug Rachel's waist, or what's left of it. "Love you, Mama." Then she presses a kiss to her mama's belly. "Love you, Baby."
Rachel holds Callie close for a moment, eyes tearing up. "We love you too, little star."
And then their friends are sweeping Calliope out of their apartment and leaving them alone for a few hours with nothing to worry about but tracking the progression of Rachel's labor. Rachel stares forlornly at the closed door, one hand on her belly and one on her back.
"Come here," Quinn urges as she gathers her wife into her arms, holding her as close as she can.
Rachel slumps against her, clearly giving up the battle to appear unaffected. "Does it make me a terrible mother that I'm relieved to not have Calliope here for a few hours?" she mumbles into Quinn's shoulder.
"No." Quinn is relieved too. "She was starting to get upset every time you had a contraction."
"Yeah," Rachel breathes out, lifting her head to reveal teary eyes. "How much longer is this going to take, Quinn?"
"Oh, sweetheart. I wish I knew," she murmurs, closing her eyes against the wave of utter uselessness that crashes over her. All she can do is rub soothing circles up and down her wife's back, kiss her forehead, and be the shoulder she leans on to get through this.
They're still in the middle of that hug when Rachel has her next contraction, the bite of blunt nails into Quinn's shoulder and hiss of breath against her neck giving it away. "Oh…I hate this," she grunts out, tensing even more before her body finally sags in relief.
Quinn hums in agreement. It's not exactly her idea of a good time either. She doesn't tell Rachel that it's still only ten minutes, give or take thirty seconds or so. Her wife is already leaning almost all of her weight on Quinn, whether in exhaustion or dejection, she can't be totally sure. "Do you wanna try lying down for a little while?"
Rachel heaves out a tired sigh. "Not really," she mutters as she straightens.
Quinn really doesn't want to force the issue, but, "Rachel, you really should try to get some rest while you can. We might be in for a really long day and night."
"Don't say that," Rachel pleads, horrified.
"Me not saying it won't make it not true," Quinn points out gently.
Her wife's lower lip trembles, and she looks frighteningly ready to sob, but she grudgingly nods her head. "Okay." She takes a deep breath and slips out of Quinn's arms, nodding again more firmly. "Okay. I'll give the bed a try."
Relieved, Quinn offers a smile of encouragement as she walks Rachel to their bedroom. She insists on checking her blood pressure again and is also relieved to see that it hasn't inched much higher than it was earlier. Satisfied that there's no immediate danger to her wife and unborn daughter, she helps get Rachel settled on her side with numerous pillows propped under her before slipping in behind her. "You okay?" she checks as she runs a loving hand along her wife's side.
"As much as I can be," Rachel assures her. "Keep rubbing my back?"
"For as long as you need," Quinn promises as she resumes one of the numerous massage methods that they'd learned in their birthing classes.
"You're the best wife," Rachel praises, reaching behind her to clumsily pat Quinn's hip. "Even when your daughter is being stubborn and uncooperative."
"Our daughter," Quinn corrects, because stubborn and uncooperative are not traits that can be solely credited to Quinn. "And really, one of them had to be dramatic in a refusing-to-take-the-stage kind of way."
A little laugh slips out of Rachel. "I love you, baby." She rubs the side of her belly again. "And I love you, Celeste, even if you are taking your own sweet time to get here."
Quinn leans forward to kiss the nape of her wife's neck as she continues the massage. "It really won't be much longer now, Rachel." Her labor might be progressing slowly, but it is progressing. "We might even have our baby bunny in our arms by this time tomorrow."
"But don't think you have to wait that long, angel baby," Rachel directs to their daughter just seconds before a grunt escapes her. She curls more tightly into a fetal position, puffing through another contraction, and Quinn presses a hand firmly into her lower back.
"Breathe through it, sweetheart."
Rachel manages to lift a hand and flip her off before putting that hand right back on her belly and clutching it. "Ow…ow…ow…son of a bitch."
Quinn watches her exhale and gradually unclench her muscles. "At least you can swear properly now."
Rachel chuckles weakly. "Don't you worry. I will be."
Quinn doesn't doubt it for a moment. Her wife isn't much for swearing except during sex, but she lets out a little curse everytime she stubs a toe or jams a finger or cuts herself with a screwdriver. None of those little ouchies even come close to labor pains. The next however many hours are going to be quite an adventure. She expects Rachel to scream loud enough to shatter glass and squeeze her hand hard enough to shatter bone. She can only pray that they all come through the experience with minimal damage and every potential bad memory eclipsed by the joy of meeting their daughter.
"You know, that one was barely nine minutes," she relays hopefully, licking her lips. "Maybe Celeste decided to pick up the pace." Probably to stop her mama from cursing her out.
"God, I hope so. I really want to get this part over with already so I can snuggle our little angel."
Quinn smiles and kisses her wife's shoulder. "You still think she's an angel after the hell she's putting you through?"
"I'm not calling her bunny, Quinn."
She really should resist, but she can't seem to. "Yeah, bunny would imply some speed. Maybe you should call her turtle instead."
"Quinn!" Rachel manages to crane her neck around so she can glower at her. "That's almost as bad as Santana calling her tadpole."
Quinn can't disagree. She doesn't exactly love that development either, though Santana's occasional use of tidbit is pretty cute, but she laughs anyway, pausing her massage so she can hug Rachel from behind. "How about pokey? It's dual purpose." And she playfully pokes Rachel's belly in demonstration.
Rachel laughs and bats her hand away. "How about we just wait until she's here, and you'll see that she is, in fact, our perfect little angel."
Quinn's smile softens, her heart full. It really won't be long now, and, "I can't wait to meet her."
Except, of course, that she'll have to do exactly that. They both will, because perfection can't be rushed, and nothing could be more perfect than Quinn's family.
