"Mama! I stubbed my toe!" One hand clutched around a granola bar and the other in her hair, struggling to tie a ponytail, Aubrey hastens out of the library and into the upstairs hallway, where Louise sits on the floor gripping her injured foot. Tears stream down the five-year-old's cheeks and drip off her chin, dampening the collar of her dress. At the sight of the crying child, Aubrey quickly sets down her food down on the hall table and kneels, not bothering to adjust her skirt.
"Oh sweetie, how did it happen? Let me see," she croons, finishing her hair with a deft flick of her wrist and bending over the little girl. "Is it bleeding?"
Louise shakes her head, biting her lip against the tears that threaten to slip into her mouth.
"No, Mama. But I hit it hard; Rats tripped me and I hurt it on the wall," she says crossly, permitting her mother to examine the injured appendage. "Don't touch it." Despite her concern for her daughter's wellbeing, Aubrey can't hold back a smile at the bossy tone of voice. Whether they share blood or not, there has never been any question that Louise is her daughter; it's become increasingly more apparent ever since the little girl learned to speak, and the resemblance grows every day.
"Well thankfully there's no blood, and you didn't break it. It's going to hurt right now, but I bet in an hour you won't even remember that it happened," she consoles. Louise shoots her a disapproving frown that practically screams Posen.
"Mama, that doesn't matter," she points out grouchily. "It hurts now." Aubrey has to bite back a grin; her daughter is so bossy.
"All right then, Little Lady," she declares cheerfully, offering her hands to help the petulant five-year-old to her feet. "Let's go get you a Popsicle to stop it hurting. Mommy says that we're leaving in fifteen minutes; are you ready?" Louise, now balancing on one foot with her arms firmly crossed, rolls her hazel eyes.
"Mama, I was ready hours ago," she sighs. "Are you?" Looking down at her half-buttoned blouse and single sock, Aubrey realizes that she is not, in fact, ready to leave. She lets out a sigh of her own and grabs her granola bar before reaching for Louise's hand.
"No, I'm not," she admits. "But I'll let your Mommy help me out. Let's go get a Popsicle, okay?" Louise's nod is solemn.
"Yes, Mama," she replies seriously, and for a moment, Aubrey wants to tickle her, make a funny face, do anything to ensure that her little girl doesn't grow up with such a stoic outlook on life. She's well aware that she was exactly the same way, but that fact doesn't lessen her vehement opinion that no one should be so serious at such a young age.
When they arrive in the kitchen, Stacie is in the middle of packing a little flowered bag with cheerios, juice boxes, and a number of other snacks. Louise releases Aubrey's hand and immediately marches over to the freezer. As she deliberates between flavors of Popsicles, Stacie finishes packing up and turns to her wife with raised eyebrows.
"I thought we agreed no sugar before lunch?" she questions. Aubrey shrugs; six years ago, she would never have guessed that she would be the less forceful one in a relationship, but Stacie has proved wrong many of the assumptions she used to hold about herself.
"She stubbed her toe; I figured it would help distract her," she defends. Stacie's eyes crinkle in mirth; she crosses the room in three quick strides and tugs at the material of Aubrey's shirt. The blonde begins to splutter out a noise of protest, but one amused look from her younger wife silences her in an instant.
"Your shirt's unbuttoned," she explains, doing up the remaining buttons with a grin. Aubrey has to smile – she never would have thought that anyone she could date would be more responsible than she, but Stacie has proved her wrong on that front as well. The brunette is attentive and vigilant in a way that rivals even Aubrey's anal-retentive compulsiveness. "Louise, it's time to go, sweetie," the woman in question summons. Louise glances up, her Popsicle stick carefully wrapped in paper towels so as to avoid being dripped on.
"To bring my new brother home?" she asks innocently. Her mothers nod.
"That's right, pumpkin," Aubrey confirms. "Do you remember what we told you about today?" Louise nods seriously, her wide eyes solemn.
"Yes, Mama; you said to be very polite to everyone, and that if we can leave early enough, we'll get to go out for lunch." Aubrey and Stacie smile at her affectionately; as she throws her Popsicle away, Stacie takes one of her hands, Aubrey the other.
"That's right. And do you remember what Mommy said about your new brother?" she asks. Louise thinks for a moment before her eyes light up with recognition.
"That he can't hear me if I talk to him," she says.
"Exactly, so we're going to need to be really, really patient with him, just like he'll have to be patient with us until we can learn to use sign language," Stacie says softly. Louise frowns contemplatively.
"But Mama already knows sign language!" she points out. Aubrey smiles.
"Yes, sweetie, but you and Mommy don't know it well yet, so you'll have to practice lots and lots until you can talk to him really well. I'll help you learn, and you've already been practicing, remember?" she reminds her. Louise purses her lips in concentration.
"Yes," she says slowly. "I remember hi and please." As she speaks, she signs the words carefully with her chubby fingers.
"Do you remember how to say thank you?" Aubrey asks her. Louise thinks for a minute, and then slowly moves her fingertips to her lips, and then out and away.
"There you go!" Stacie exclaims proudly, and pulls her in for a quick hug. "See? You'll learn it so fast, you'll barely even notice that you have to work at it." Louise offers her a vague smile, but her eyebrows are knit in concentration, and she's staring off into the distance with a quizzical look on her face. Neither woman says anything, not wanting to pull her mind from whatever path it's going down. After a moment, she turns to look back up at her mothers in confusion.
"Mommy? Mama?" she asks hesitantly.
"Yes sweetie?" both women immediately respond in unison. Louise scrunches up her nose thoughtfully.
"Why . . ." she starts, and then shakes herself a little before approaching the question again from a different angle. "You're both my mommies, but you said that I lived in Mommy's tummy for a while before I met you, right?" Her mothers exchange a look.
"Yes, sweetheart," Aubrey answers slowly with a glance at her wife, not certain where this is going. Louise nods.
"Then where are my new brother's mommies, and why don't we just get another baby from you or Mama?" she finishes tentatively. Both women stiffen uncomfortably. Stacie spares her wife a glance and decides to respond herself.
"Well, sweetie, we were going to, but then Mommy met your new brother while she was working, and since his Mommy couldn't take care of him, we decided that we could be his mommies instead." Louise purses her lips for a long moment before unscrunching her nose and nodding.
"That's nice," she declares after a moment. "I'm glad." Aubrey and Stacie's tense expressions relax into smiles. Stacie offers out her hand to her little daughter.
"Isn't it? We're pretty glad, too," she agrees, leading their daughter out to the car.
"When will he be here?" Louise whispers loudly, bouncing on the plastic seat in the adoption agent's office. "Is he coming soon?" Gently, Aubrey lays a hand on her daughter's knee, silently telling her to settle down.
"He'll be here in just a moment," Stacie confirms. All of their paperwork was approved earlier in the week, so they've only been waiting for a few minutes, but to a five-year-old mind, they've been sitting here for hours. Elinor, the social worker, looks up from her phone.
"They're bringing him back now," she informs them. Despite themselves, Stacie and Aubrey tense a little, not with dread, but with mingled nervousness and excitement. They've been waiting for this for a long time - longer than they expected, since they had to wait for the insurance from Stacie's new job to kick in before finalizing some of the paperwork, but now that the moment has arrived, they're both feeling a little anxious.
Neither of them have any doubt that they and Louise will love the new addition to their family, or that their son will love them just as much; they know that they'll give him a happy home. It's only that there's a feeling of fear and anticipation that comes with bringing another child into their lives; sometimes they feel irresponsible for even considering that they can manage a life other than their own. It's especially nerve-wracking for Aubrey, who despite her loving wife and daughter has never quite learned to accept good things that she deserves. The idea that love is given freely and isn't something she has to work for never fails to astound her.
When their new son enters the room in the arms of another social worker, she is blown away again by the immediate feeling of love slamming against her body like a train at full speed. She knows him; she's the one who originally took his case, though she transferred when she and Stacie decided that they wanted to adopt him. She was there eleven months ago as his mother gave birth, a fifteen-year-old in a too-tight Dairy Queen uniform and lipgloss from one of those squeeze tubes in a Target princess makeup kit. She was the first to hold him, somehow; the girl hadn't wanted any chance to grow attached, and there had been no one else in the room, so the nurse had handed him to her.
Protesting, shaking her head, she had tried to hand him back, but there were no other arms there to take him. Looking down at him, squirming and red-faced in her arms, her protests had faded to mumbles as she remembered holding Louise moments after her birth, and the same feeling of belonging had swept over her.
It sweeps over her now as he is handed to them again; she and Stacie both stand as he is brought in, and when they take him, they hold him against their chests, between their bodies, standing as close together as they can manage. They coo to him together though they know he can't hear, watching his bright eyes blink up at them as he curls a hand around their hair, blonde and brown merging into a twist of vibrance in his chubby fist.
With her free hand, Stacie signs the word to him. Mommy. Slowly, she motions to both of them. Aubrey joins in: Mama. He giggles brightly, imitates them. Aubrey buries her face in his soft hair to hide her tears; Stacie's hand reaches down to twine around hers.
They part a moment later, feeling a tug on both of their pinkies.
"Mommy, Mama!" Louise complains. "I want to meet him!" Smiling, the two women crouch down, the little boy still nestled securely in Aubrey's arms.
"Sweetie, this is Oliver," Stacie says, slowly signing the words with the baby's eyes on her. "Do you remember how to say 'sister'? If you want to tell him who you are, you can show him that." Slowly, Louise brings up her right hand and holds her thumb beneath her chin for a moment before bringing it down and tapping the back of her left hand with her index finger. Sister. Still giggling, Oliver signs it back.
Louise's face breaks out into a wide grin.
"Mommy, Mama, did you see that?" she exclaims. "He knows!" Stacie and Aubrey smile. Excitedly, Louise repeats the sign to see Oliver imitate her a second time.
"Tell him we're taking him home, sweetheart," Aubrey says softly.
"Home?" asks Louise. Stacie nods.
"Home." Taking a step closer to her little brother, Louise stares right into his bright blue eyes and slowly signs the word. A beaming smile still plastered across his chubby baby cheeks, Oliver follows her every move.
Home.
